


Electrical Breakdown

by TurtleNovas



Series: Amelioration [7]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Found Family, Frottage, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pet Names, Phone Sex, Pining, Relationship Negotiation, Season 1 & 2 canon compliant, Steve actually wins a fight, Touch-Starved, past trauma, touch-starved Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 70,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleNovas/pseuds/TurtleNovas
Summary: They take care of each other.





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> This story depicts a romantic and sexual relationship between Steve and Dustin. They kiss when Dustin is 17, and he is 18+ for everything else. Be aware in advance that this is what you're reading. 
> 
> This will not make sense without the context of the rest of the series behind it.
> 
> Now with some lovely [cover art](https://blumeshullman.deviantart.com/art/Amelioration-Fic-Poster-737821871) done by [BlumeShullman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BlumeShullman). (I also linked this in the series notes, but I'm putting it here because it applies most to this story.)

It's a tradition for Dustin and his mom that they put up the Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving. For them, Thanksgiving has always been a pretty small affair - just the two of them and a nice homemade meal, with board games and hot cocoa after. This year was no different, although Dustin had found himself wishing that Steve were there, even though that was ridiculous. Steve did still have a family of his own, and an extended family several hours upstate, all of whom fully expected him in attendance at the yearly feast at the lake house. Still, even though Steve had never actually _been_ at the Henderson Thanksgiving, it somehow felt a little empty without him this year.

When Friday morning rolls around, Dustin is still feeling a little less cheerful than usual, but he lets his mom pull him out of bed early so they can make breakfast together - Christmas tree pancakes and left over cranberry sauce with maple syrup, the way they've done every year for as long as Dustin can remember. When the doorbell rings as Dustin is watching the last of the pancakes cook, he turns to his mom with a confused, "What the hell?"

She just shrugs and says, "Why don't you go see who it is. I'll watch the pancakes."

Dustin goes easily, because there's no reason not to, and is already halfway through a bland greeting when he looks up and realizes that it's Steve standing there. Steve who is supposed to be stuck six hours north of here for the entire week, and who looks tired, and rumpled, and somehow dried out and greasy all at the same time, and also is the most beautiful person Dustin has ever seen in his life. He's hugging him before he can even get a word out, and Steve just laughs and hugs him back.

Dustin doesn't let go when he says into Steve's sweater, "I thought you were going to be gone four more days."

"Yeah, well," he replies. "I went for the photo op day, and then drove home this morning before anyone was up. I left a note." Steve laughs a little again, and his warm breath reminds Dustin that it's very cold outside and he's only wearing a tshirt and pajama pants.

He reluctantly steps out of the hug and says, "Well you better come in then."

Steve grins at him and steps inside. "I was told there would be breakfast and Christmas decorations?"

Dustin is scandalized to realize that Steve has been talking to his mom. "She planned this! You planned this together." He fakes an affronted gasp as his mom comes out of the kitchen. "You two are in cahoots!"

His mom laughs. "Yes, it's been the plan for quite a while." She looks so pleased with herself and Dustin can only smile, overwhelmed and happy.

He feels Steve's hand in his hair, ruffling it affectionately, and turns to look at him again. He really does look exhausted. The skin under his eyes looks bruised and puffy, his lips obviously chapped, and his hair is uncharacteristically mussed, still flat on one side, like he hadn't even brushed it this morning. "How much sleep did you get?" He asks, trying, and probably failing to not sound too worried.

Steve smiles, all soft and warm looking. "Not very much, but it's okay. I'd rather be here than sleeping in the shark infested waters of my family Thanksgiving gathering."

He says it lightly, but Dustin still feels that sharp pang of hurt he gets whenever Steve talks about his family. He'll never regret that their absentee style led Steve to him, but he wishes more than anything that Steve had the love and support he deserves from the people at home. He sighs. "Well come on, let's at least get you some breakfast."

Steve nods and follows him into the dining room where Dustin's mom has already brought out all the makings of their meal and set a third place. It's a quiet affair, but happy and relaxed, just the way an after Thanksgiving breakfast should be. Steve doesn't eat much, but Dustin remembers that he probably spent the day yesterday gorging on massive Thanksgiving levels of food, so he doesn't let it worry him. Afterwards, they all do the dishes together, and it's a little crowded to have three of them there, but it's nice anyways. It feels just right to take the soapy dishes from his mom, rinse them, and hand them to Steve for drying.

After everything is cleaned up, his mom gets that unmistakable gleam in her eye and says gleefully, "Now, I think you both know what time it is!"

So they follow her into the living room, where the boxes of decorations have been piled high for three days, just waiting to be unpacked and flung about the house in the most Christmasy fashion possible. Dustin, for the most part, watches, pitching in on occasion when his mom asks him for an opinion on where they should hang the garland this year, or which sheep to put on the roof of the nativity (it's a tradition ever since he'd done it once as a child - there is always a sheep on the roof to keep the angel company).

By the time they get to the tree, the rest of the house basically looks like Santa and Jesus came home after a wild kegger and threw up all over the place, and Dustin is content. His mom loves any and all holidays, so even though Dustin doesn't quite meet her zeal, her happiness is infectious. He helps Steve assemble the tree (fake, because Dustin is allergic to pine), while his mom makes cocoa, and then they all take a break to drink it while Steve regales them with horror stories of this year's "Harrington Thanksgiving Massacre" as he calls it.

A little while later, as Steve and Dustin's mom are unpacking the ornaments, Tews comes over and hops onto Steve's shoulders, where he likes to sit on occasion, when he's feeling brave about his balance. Steve just smiles, and rubs his face against Tews's soft little cheeks as he continues to unwrap ornaments, and Dustin has to look away before he does something stupid, like propose marriage or something. His face feels a little hot, too, and he hopes to God and all things holy that he isn't blushing as hard as it feels like he is. The last thing he needs is for Steve to catch him mooning.

Still, despite Dustin long hesitating to admit it, he really can't deny it any longer. He is absolutely in love with Steve. He hasn't wanted to put that label on it, because his relationship with Steve, above all, must be a forever thing, and Dustin is all too aware of the usually transient nature of teenage love. He doesn't want to cast that sort of filter over their relationship, or provide any openings for weakness in the foundations they've built by introducing this kind of emotion. Nevertheless, he can't ignore the fact that looking at Steve now, laughing with Dustin's mom, Tews perched on his shoulders trying to bat at ornaments as Steve hangs them, he feels actual pain in his chest, hot and aching like a bruise. Still, even with the ache that seems to throb in time with his heartbeat, it's a good feeling. It fills him with warmth, and joy, and makes him feel like he can survive anything, if only he has Steve there to press on the bruise, and make that happy, bright hot pain sing across his nerves.

So yeah, he's in love with Steve. Like, really in love with him. It's a little bit scary, and a little bit annoying, considering how much Dustin doesn't want to ruin what he has with Steve. Also considering how much he knows he doesn't have a chance. He's well aware that he's just a kid to Steve, even if they're closer to each other than basically anyone else. Steve, he's pretty sure, thinks of him as a little brother, or something similar, and that's fine with Dustin, it really is. Dustin's honestly hoping that this will be that sort of fleeting teenage crush that only feels like it will never end, and that, in a few months he can go back to just desperately loving Steve in general, with out all the extra romantic feelings and extremely distracting attraction. He's not exceedingly keen on the idea of being in unrequited love for the rest of his life, but he knows that, even if it never goes away, it'll be worth it just to have Steve around, because Steve is just that kind of person.

Steve has legitimately never not been there for Dustin when he needed him, but more importantly, he's often there when Dustin doesn't need him at all. He makes sure that Dustin knows that he wants to be around even for the inane, every day shit that is boring and unfun. For fuck's sake, Steve has mowed their lawn, raked their leaves, and repaired their gutters at various points so that Dustin won't have to and Dustin's mom won't have to pay someone to do it. He _cares_ about them and never asks for a single thing in return. Although, of course, Dustin and his mom are happy to force Steve to take every ounce of support they can give him, whether he's willing to ask for it or not; because Steve is sweet, and gentle, and selfless, and hilarious, and desperately hurt and broken, and seems to have no one else to look out for him and care for him without restraint, and Dustin thinks that's some sort of cosmic travesty that must be corrected, lest the universe devour itself in backlash, or something equally dramatic.

Also, all the other stuff aside, there's the fact that Dustin doesn't really know if Steve would ever want to be with a guy, after everything that's happened with Billy. They've talked about Steve possibly liking guys a couple of times, vaguely, since Dustin came out, but only in terms of Steve wondering sometimes if he really does like both. He hasn't even really come to a conclusion, just a hesitant acceptance that he thinks he might, that he had thought so before everything, so he thinks that's probably right. Dustin thinks he's probably too traumatized to explore it, and honestly, he can't blame him. If Steve did ever date a guy, Dustin would probably have trouble keeping himself chill enough not to drive everyone crazy with how careful an eye he would keep on the hypothetical boyfriend. Even with a girlfriend, Dustin thinks, he would do the same.

Steve has been hurt too many times, and Dustin isn't fool enough to think Nancy didn't do a number on him as well, didn't set him up to be in a place where he didn't feel entitled to protect himself, to try and prevent what came after her. Dustin knows how little Steve values himself and his own well being, and he's not stupid enough to miss the obvious connection when Steve talks about how much of Nancy's good he didn't deserve. Sometimes, Dustin wants to yell at Nancy for hours, to scream and rage and beg her to apologize for letting Steve think these things about himself, for not disabusing him of the notion before it was too late, but he knows Steve would hate that, knows it wouldn't really do any good. Billy's dead, though, and Steve's parents aren't around all that much, so the only contributor he sees regularly is Nancy, and sometimes the only way he can get through watching Steve think he's worthless, is to fantasize about taking her to task for her part in it, however small it might have been compared to what happened after.

He thinks the combination of everything is probably why Steve hasn't dated anyone since what happened with Billy, hasn't even shown an interest, even though he's been making incredible progress everywhere else. Dustin wonders if Steve will ever feel comfortable with someone in that way again. He hopes, for Steve's sake, that he will, even if it's someone Dustin hates. As long as they treat Steve right, Dustin doesn't care.

Steve, he thinks, with absolute certainty, deserves to have someone to love him that way. He never really paid attention to Steve with Nancy until they were mid break-up, but he's gathered from the way everyone talks, that Steve is the type of boyfriend who goes full heartedly into everything; the type of guy to shower whoever he's with in endless affection and praise. It certainly lines up with how Steve is with Dustin and his mom, and Dustin thinks he deserves to be able to express himself that way with someone who will treat him just as well in return, and can give him the kind of gentle physical affection that he deserves and doesn't really get from his other relationships. Honestly, he just wants someone - anyone - to sweep Steve off his feet and take care of him forever, and he thinks it's not entirely his heart's fault that it has decided it wants to volunteer for the honor.

Still, he's totally aware that it's a bit of hopeless fantasy, so he tries his best to set it aside, not to dwell on it, and until now, not to even admit to it. It sucks, but it's okay because even if everything stays the same as it is right now, he knows it will be okay. Steve is here with them, _chose_ to be here with them, even though it'll create a lot of trouble for him later on, and Dustin thinks that's enough. He'll be happy if he ever gets any more, but even with all the extra pain, what he has now is abundantly enough. He looks back at Steve and his mom and Tews, laughing and playful, and most importantly, safe and happy, and he knows. Steve will always be enough, just the way he is.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Electrical breakdown or dielectric breakdown is when current flows through an electrical insulator when the voltage applied across it exceeds the breakdown voltage. This results in the insulator becoming electrically conductive. Electrical breakdown may be a momentary event (as in an electrostatic discharge), or may lead to a continuous arc if protective devices fail to interrupt the current in a power circuit.


	2. Chapter 02

The realization comes slowly at first, and then all at once, to the point where Steve has to lean on a display in the store for a while until he regains his bearings. He's out Christmas shopping, having already bought things for his parents, and for Claudia, and is now focusing on Dustin's presents, a list in hand provided by Claudia. (Dustin had refused to give him any hints, insisting he didn't require any presents from Steve, and Steve's still not any good at knowing the _right_ nerd stuff, no matter how many Dungeons and Dragons games he attends, or technology rants he hears, so Claudia'd taken mercy on him and shared the list, telling him, "I can't afford everything on there anyways. Just tell me what you buy so we don't accidentally double up." Steve had hugged her and thanked her profusely until she'd pushed him away laughing, batting at him in a motherly fashion.) If he's being honest, he's already bought Dustin three of the five things on the part of the list Claudia had circled to indicate she definitely wouldn't be getting them, and he's been scouring the mall for hours looking for the fourth, which is when it hits him.

He likes buying things for Dustin a lot more than he probably should. Like, the sense of satisfaction he gets, just from the act of spending his money on Dustin, for whatever reason is distinctly out of proportion. It gives him the same sort of hot thrill low in his stomach that planning dates, and gifts, and surprises for Nancy had, and Steve can't entirely pin down why. He's not sure if there actually needs to be a parallel between the things he did for Nancy and the things he does for Dustin, but there is a traitorous and insistent voice in his head telling him he needs to consider it.

Still, he thinks, sitting on the edge of a display of shirts, casting a wary eye around the area for employees who might tell him to get up, he's not sure it really matters. Dustin is a sweet kid, and Steve has a lot of money saved up from working at the grocery store and not having to pay rent. Steve knows that Dustin and his mom live comfortably, but don't necessarily have a whole host of savings or extra funds to spend on fun stuff. They're happy, but they still have a lot of wants that don't get attended to, and Steve thinks that, while there may be other, more important tragedies in the world, the idea that the Hendersons want for anything is certainly at least top ten.

Plus there's the fact that Dustin is basically wonderful. He never asks for anything material, and even when it comes to demands on Steve's time, he only actually _asks_ when he's in dire need. All the other inconveniences Dustin brings to Steve are because Steve has seen a way to make his life easier and volunteered. Dustin is, inherently, a somewhat selfless individual. Whether that comes from growing up with just a mom, determined to help her and support her as much as she supports him, or if it's just an innate quality in him, Steve can't say. He likes to think it's a combination of both, and that it deserves rewarding.

Also, there's the fact that Dustin is an absolute delight, which automatically qualifies him to be spoiled, in Steve's opinion. He's hilarious, for one, but not in that meanly deprecating way a lot of teenagers (and a lot of his friends) are. His humor is, while far from innocent, always careful about who is the butt of the joke, and is often so goofy and off the wall that Steve finds himself laughing in surprise at first, and then devolving into fits of hysterics that take ages to abate. Dustin's sarcastic sometimes, but only when he's frustrated, and even then, he has a tendency to apologize soon after, if he crosses any lines - an admirable trait in Steve's opinion. Which is another amazing thing about Dustin, particularly considering his age - he is a consummate diplomat.

Steve often has the chance to witness spats among the party, both minor and serious, and almost always, it's Dustin there playing mediator, even when his own interests are at stake. Of course, no one is perfect, and sometimes Dustin gets drawn in as well (in those cases, Steve is the mediator, and he doesn't think it's quite his fault that Dustin's point is usually more salient, and usually the one he favors). The point is, though, that Dustin rarely intentionally fuels conflict with anyone, preferring to settle things peacefully and in a way that benefits everyone. When it comes down to it, Dustin just cares more about everyone being happy and will do whatever he can to make that happen.

Particularly, Steve knows, Dustin cares about _Steve_ being happy, and has bent over backwards to make it happen. Steve knows their initial team up was almost entirely born of coincidence, but he doesn't think there is anything else in the history of his life that he's more grateful for. He never could have imagined, at the time, that in under a day this spunky, hilarious, brave, selfless kid would've gotten so thoroughly under his skin, worked his way so permeatively into his life that Steve doesn't think they can ever extricate themselves from each other without catastrophic injury. It's a little scary to think about, if he's honest. He'd thought he'd felt that way about Nancy, that his life without her would feel empty forever, that he would have a hole in him that would never fill, but he realizes now that those feelings had been barely a shadow compared to this.

Dustin and Claudia are integral to his happiness now, and even the thought of losing them causes panic to shriek up inside of him, sucking the air out of him and making it hard to breathe. It hurts physically, like someone swinging at his chest with a sledgehammer, shattering his ribs and pushing the bones into his heart and lungs, so everything is a dull, burning ache, jagged sharp edges digging in and fueling a feeling of drowning that can seem interminable. Yet, it only takes him the quickest moment to pull out of that panic, because he knows with absolute certainty that it will never happen. Dustin and Claudia are forever for him in the best possible way. They have made it clear time and again that they will be there to support him, to raise him up, to protect him when he needs it and no one else will come through, and it makes Steve want to laugh and cry and collapse to the ground in sheer, stunned gratitude all at the same time.

He loves them more than he has loved anything in his life, and, he thinks, more than he will ever love anything else. He would sooner sacrifice every other relationship he has or will have than let them go, and he has such conviction about the feeling that he's willing to build his entire life going forward on that foundation. It's been slow and agonizing progress, trying to heal from what has happened to him, and he's still eons away from being better; but he thinks, if he's building a ladder to climb out of the pit, then his love for Dustin and Claudia will be the material for each and every rung.

So, he thinks, it's only fair for him to reciprocate that unconditional support in any way he can. Dustin brings so much light into his life, which is otherwise a dark, treacherous wasteland that he struggles each day to navigate, that it seems wrong to do anything less than bring as much light as he can back to him. Some mornings, when Steve wakes up in a panic, unable to figure out how to breathe, or see, or feel anything other than screaming, warped terror, it's Dustin's face that brings him back. It's remembering his smile the last time Steve gave him something (anything, because Dustin is always happy, even for the littlest things), the way he always launches himself at Steve and hugs him in a way that doesn't startle Steve at all; that warms him and calms him and soothes his raw, savaged nerves in a way that no other contact is able to.

Steve has always liked giving things to people he cares about, has been a guy who spends his time thinking how best to please his girlfriends, how to make the lives of the people he loves a little easier, how to support and take care of them in ways they don't expect, but will enjoy anyways. It makes sense, then, that he would enjoy it even more when it's Dustin, because Dustin has given him more than anyone else in his life. He's seen Steve at his worst, lost in the darkest caverns of terror, and pain, and anger, and has loved Steve without hesitation. He has reached out when everyone else shied away, has given him a home, and shared his own family when Steve, effectively had none. He's done it all selflessly, with only the intention to make sure Steve is alright, because he cares. But also, he's leaned on Steve in return; looked at Steve and seen someone who can support him, someone that he can trust, that he can take advice and comfort from, despite all of Steve's brokenness, and that is a gift all it's own.

Dustin sees Steve as someone worthy of looking up to, despite having held him while he cried, having seen him at his most shamed, wrapped in nothing but sheets and a shroud of humiliation, or stumbling drunkenly around his own house, too stupid to seek help for massive head trauma, or staring blankly into the darkness, unable to sleep even when it was only Dustin in the room. Through all of it, Dustin has cared for him, picked up the pieces and held them together with nothing but his bare hands and an unflinching determination to keep Steve alive, but still he admires Steve, and trusts his opinion over that of his friends, comes to him when he needs protecting or caring for. It makes Steve feel powerful, to have someone who sees him this way. It makes him feel worthy, even if he is still broken beyond repair. Most importantly, it makes him feel as if he is capable of having a future, even when everything in him is screaming that he's not, that he's irreversibly damaged, and that he'll never be good enough for anyone, that he can't take care of anyone if he can't even fix himself. Dustin makes him feel whole.

So if his heart beats fast, and he feels overwarm and excited any time he thinks about buying things for Dustin, he thinks it's acceptable, reasonable even. Of course he wants to give him things, to fulfill his wants in ways that he won't be able to get anywhere else. He knows that Dustin will treat him the same whether Steve gives him gifts or not, but for Steve, knowing that he can give Dustin things, that he can use it to let Dustin know that there is someone out there other than his mom who cares about him enough to spoil him, is cathartic and exciting in a way that not much else is. It _is_ a little scary to him, how unfamiliar and intense the feeling is, but still, he thinks it's worth it to see Dustin surprised and shy, to watch him realize that there is someone who just wants to give him things, for no reason and at every possible turn; to see how happy that makes him, when so much of his time now is spent hiding how lonely it makes him to see his friends drifting away and towards romance, when he has to wait to get there because there are no options for him, and if there were, he still has to protect himself in a way most of the others don't. Honestly, there's nothing Steve can think of that could be more satisfying than giving Dustin things and watching that loneliness and neglect fade, even just for a moment. It's unusual, and vividly extreme, but Steve knows, without doubt, that it's right.

 


	3. Chapter 03

When Dustin asks Steve for tips on how to work out, he's expecting some advice, maybe an offer to help out, possibly with a Steve-like platitude about Dustin not needing to work out, even though they'll both know he really does. He's not expecting Steve to stare at him, long and hard, letting the silence stretch out between them until it feels like it might snap audibly just to break the tension. He looks deeply perturbed, and maybe a little angry, and Dustin is kind of confused as to why, wishes he could see what Steve is thinking, why he's reacting poorly to what Dustin had thought was a pretty innocuous question.

When he finally does reply, it's only to ask, in a quiet, deliberately soft sounding voice, "Why?"

Dustin balks a little. He wasn't expecting Steve to ask him to explain himself, had thought it would be pretty self-evident, considering. Dustin's a 17 year old kid who looks all goofy in a lot of ways, and it probably doesn't help his chances with anyone that he's so soft around the edges, to the point that you could probably call him fat if you wanted (not that he even _has_ any chances with anyone around here, but he thinks it's better to get started working on it now). He's not acknowledging that little intrusive thought in the back of his mind that says if he looks better he might have more of a chance with Steve, because the fact that he wants Steve is irrelevant to everything, and indulging those kinds of ideas will only lead to heartbreak anyways.

So Dustin just shrugs and says, "I dunno, I just thought maybe it would be good to get in shape." He doesn't say, _All of my friends are hot, and skinny, and well muscled with beautiful faces._ He doesn't say, _I wish I were beautiful like they are, because sometimes I think I won't ever be able to find a guy who likes me._ He doesn't mention how, even though he's been on dates with girls, he's always suspected they were just using him as warm ups anyways, or that he's more worried about his looks now that he knows he has to please a male audience, because he thinks guys probably don't care as much for personality.

Apparently, all of that still reads on his face, though, because Steve leans across their game board, upsetting all of the pieces, making Dustin squawk a little indignantly until Steve pulls him into a hug. They end up sort of awkwardly sprawled over the board, and Dustin is thankful the pieces are flat, because he can feel one digging into his hip, but Steve is hugging him very softly, his face actually buried in Dustin's shoulder, like he's trying to comfort himself as much as Dustin, not quite squeezing, but still holding on pretty firmly. Dustin's not really sure what he's done to make Steve feel so bad, but he hugs him back anyways, because he always wants to comfort him if he needs it.

After another long moment, Steve gives a muffled sigh and sits back, hands on Dustin's shoulders, making determined eye contact. "If you want to get in shape because you think it would be fun, or because you want to be healthier, or because you suddenly have an interest in like...the physical science of exercise or some shit, okay." He pauses, giving Dustin another searching look that makes him feel like he's an open book and Steve knows everything he's thinking without even trying. "But, Dusty, I _know_ you hate gym class, and I _know_ you dread track and field day, and I have heard you complain about how horrifying the thought of running as an activity and not a necessity is every morning that I've been here since I started doing it, so if it's about changing yourself because you think you have to fit in, or because you think guys won't like you the way you are, or any bullshit like that, that's not a good reason."

Dustin feels himself sulking a little, looking away and letting a little bit of bitterness come over him, even though he knows Steve cares about him a lot, and is only saying what he thinks Dustin needs to hear. He hates that Steve can read him so well, how vulnerable it makes him feel, and then he hates even more that he's found something that he doesn't want to be vulnerable with Steve about, because that feels wrong, goes against everything he feels about their relationship (he wants to always trust Steve with everything, because Steve makes it feel safe to be vulnerable, and that's a really rare asset in a friend). He hates that Steve doesn't get it, because he's literally the most beautiful human being to walk the entire planet, and he hates that he's ashamed of having asked at all, because Steve is so sure that he doesn't need to change. He sighs, and sounds more than a little petulant, even to himself, when he replies, "Yeah, but, you don't _get it_."

He wants to elaborate, but can't think of anything more to say. He knows Steve is, theoretically, right, and that he should accept himself the way he is, not force himself to do things he hates, to change in ways that are counter to his personality just so that he can possibly have more dating options in the future. Still, sometimes it's hard not to be self conscious, when his friends are all so beautiful, and all so easy about laughing at him and teasing him, even if they don't mean it. He looks away from Steve, trying not to let his face crumple, wishing he hadn't let Steve look at him so long with those fucking oracle eyes of his.

"Dusty," Steve says, and it sounds all sad and hurt, like Steve is _aching_ for him, like this is a problem of a much higher caliber, and not just Dustin having stupid teenage angst about not being hot enough. "I may not 'get' it," he starts, and Dustin can see in his periphery that Steve is doing air quotes around "get", even though he's still got his gaze glued to the floor. "But I definitely have the authority to say that you don't need to change yourself unless you want to. You're amazing, and anyone who can't see that is too stupid for you anyways."

Dustin doesn't look up, still thinks that Steve is missing the point a little. It's not about his personality. People don't judge you immediately on your personality, you have to actually get in the door with them first, and that takes looks.

Steve sighs heavily, frustrated, but not necessarily with Dustin. Probably with himself, for not being able to come up with what he wants to say, if Dustin knows him. "This is so cheesy, and possibly weird" he says under his breath, as if he half expects Dustin not to hear him. Then, a little firmer, "But I mean it. I'm gonna compliment you, and you're going to listen." Dustin feels Steve's hands on his cheeks, then, and let's his head be turned so they're making eye contact again. "You have a smile that could light up an entire city block, and the way your face is proportioned to bring attention to it is totally unfair to everyone around you, because it's honestly devastating. Your eyes are so blue that I'm surprised people don't stop you on the street to recite sonnets about it. Yeah, you're soft and a little heavier, not skinny like your friends, but it makes you look like a painting, all flowing lines and artistic proportions, like someone they would've worshiped on a canvas back when painting was a big deal. Sure, you may not see people that look like you in a magazine, but it's only because you have so many things about you that are unique, and all those things make you even better to look at. So don't let the idea that you have to look like everyone else for someone to think you look good fool you. Those girls asked you out for a reason, and when you get the chance, the guys will see the same things they did. You don't need to change _anything_ , okay? Not if you don't really want to. Not if your reason is because you think it'll make other people like you more. Only if it's something you genuinely want. And if it is, then great. I'm sure the new you will be just as beautiful, but unless you're doing it only for you, please don't deprive the rest of us of how you are now, okay?"

Dustin swallows hard around a lump in his throat, trying to ignore how dry his mouth has gotten as he stares, somewhat slack-jawed at Steve. He's not really sure how to respond, and it sort of looks like Steve is at a loss as well. He's blushing, his whole face splashed with a pretty pink, concentrated to bright red high on his cheeks. His eyes are wide, and he looks a little gobsmacked, like maybe it was someone else who said all that shit, and Steve had just been standing by listening, but he's not rushing to backpedal on anything, and he's not looking away. There is a firm set to his brow, despite the rest of his face being open, embarrassed and surprised. It makes Dustin's stomach clench a little, and heat drop low in his pelvis. He has to savagely crush the urge to kiss Steve, knows that, even though Steve was being genuine, that's not why he said those things.

Finally, after a few more dry, clicking swallows, Dustin is able to rasp out, "Okay." Then he smiles a little, because Steve still looks embarrassed, and surprised, and worried, and determined all at the same time, and it reminds Dustin of just how much he loves him, and he thinks he really ought to put the man out of his misery. So he leans forward and hugs Steve gently, trying to convey his gratitude, to show Steve that he has said the right thing, that Dustin isn't going to take it the wrong way, even if every fiber of his being is telling him he should. "Thanks, Steve," he says into Steve's shoulder, and is relieved when he feels Steve's arms come up around him, tightening the hug, clenching tight in the back of Dustin's shirt.

They hug for a long time. Far longer than Dustin thinks this topic probably requires, but Steve seems shaken, and even though Dustin isn't sure why, he's not going to let him go if he needs this. When they finally separate, Steve looks a little calmer, and he's smiling, despite there still being a little shadow of _something_ in his eye. But Dustin doesn't say anything, because Steve doesn't seem to want him to, tries to deflect attention from himself by saying in a shaky voice, "So no working out tips, right?"

Dustin laughs, as much because he thinks it will make Steve feel better as because he's caught off guard. "Yeah," he says fondly. "You convinced me. No workout tips." He shoves gently at Steve's shoulder, affectionate. "Thank god, honestly. I fucking hate running." And then they're both laughing, the tension is broken for the moment, and Steve is back to his normal self as they reassemble the game as best they can, determined to finish, despite it already being clear that Dustin will win.

 


	4. Chapter 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter is not kind in its remembrance of Nancy's behavior.

Steve is maybe panicking a little bit. Or, like, a lot. It's hard to really say, because he knows it's happening, but this panic is so far removed from his normal brand of abject, haunting terror that he isn't really sure how to quantify or handle it. He's not having a panic attack, that much he knows. His heart is beating fast, and he can feel that his face is _on fire_ , but he can breathe, and he doesn't have that driving, inescapable need to run, or hide, or protect himself that he gets when it's a panic attack. Still, he is definitely freaking the fuck out, and is, frankly, shocked at how long he'd managed to hold it together before needing to escape to the bathroom to have a meltdown. They'd finished the game and everything, despite Steve's mind tripping over itself to figure out why the _fuck_ he'd just said all that shit to Dustin.

Fortunately for him, whatever is playing out inside his mind doesn't seem to have affected Dustin too much. He'd seemed more bothered by the fact that Steve had been acting weird after his little speech than by the contents of the speech itself. Hell, he'd even seemed like he was comforted by what Steve said, which is actually great, because that _had_ been his goal, even if he'd veered steeply into oversharing territory. Steve is grateful, because that means he can try to figure out what the fuck is going on with himself without worrying about Dustin having a poor reaction of his own.

He looks at himself hard in the mirror, takes in his overly flushed face, and his pupils that are somehow still dilated, even half an hour later, and he feels himself clutching the edge of the sink tight enough to hurt his hands. The first step forward, he thinks, is to just admit what it is he's struggling with. So he breathes deep, and thinks as clearly as he can about the swooping rush of dismay that had come over him at the mere thought of Dustin changing his body in any way. He forces himself to think, also, about how easily the compliments had rolled off his tongue, how honest it had felt to tell Dustin all the things that are basically devastating to Steve when he looks at him, even though he's never really actively noticed it before. He thinks about how he'd had to stop himself from going on, because, if he's being honest, some of the things he was thinking were even less appropriate to say to someone you're not dating than the things he actually did say. He's most perturbed thinking about the rolling warmth that he can still feel curling pleasantly in his lower belly, nervous and delicious, and everything Steve remembers associating with wanting someone.

He is panicking, he can admit, because there is a very distinct possibility that he is more than a little attracted to Dustin. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow and shaky, trying to calm himself, to stop the tremors he can feel in his arms, even as he's holding the sink tight enough that his hands can't join in. He's attracted to Dustin, who is his best friend, and also significantly younger than him, and also the most important person in his entire life. Worse, even, he thinks, is that, beyond the attraction, there is an even more definite possibility that he is _in love_ with Dustin.

It's a somewhat terrifying thought, and it makes Steve feel a little like he's just slipped out of his seat on a roller coaster and is hurtling towards the ground at an unfathomably quick pace. He wants to be sure, though, so he tries to think back to Nancy, to how he felt when he was with her, before everything went to shit and he realized that it was all just a huge, bloody wound in the making. He tries to forget all the shit that came after, the way Billy twisted everything around inside him and made it impossible for him to think about sex without also thinking about fear. He tries to remember the time before he realized that she hadn't ever loved him, tries to find a memory not stained by the knowledge that it was all a lie.

He remembers a time that seems so long ago now it might as well be a fairy tale, when they were new and fresh, and she looked at him, shy and fierce all at once, and peeled her shirt off, and invited him to share something with her that no one else ever could. He remembers what it felt like to be with her, and how it was her first time, and how, to him, it had felt like a first time as well - his first time with someone that mattered. He remembers how, in that moment, he'd thought that it was impossible for him to love someone more than he loved her. How he had admired her tenacity, and determination in the face of something she was obviously scared of, but still wanted. He remembers how he had wanted to care for her, and keep her safe, and make sure that she never hurt or wanted for anything. How he wanted so much to make her feel good, to make her first time everything she ever could have hoped for.

It hurts, like a knife between his ribs; a jagged edge ripping through skin, and muscle, and bone to deliver an annihilating, searing kiss to his heart. His whole chest feels like it's on fire, and he realizes he's crying, only because he can't see his reflection in the mirror anymore. He covers his mouth with an aching, cold hand, clenches his fingers tight over his own jaw to muffle the sound as he becomes aware that he's sobbing loudly. He tries to curl in on himself, but realizes he can't do it while he's still standing and collapses to his knees instead, leaning heavily against the cabinets under the sink.

He tries to stop thinking about it, to shut the door and let himself turn back before he treads on the ground of familiar panic, but his mind won't yield. He remembers her coming back to him, after everything that happened, after he'd started to lose hope, because it had been a month, and she really seemed to be done with him. He remembers elation and contrition and a desperate, surging desire to prove to her that he had changed. He remembers loving her with every molecule of his being, and thinking that she was growing to love him just as much. He remembers planning his future around her, around the unshakable knowledge that they would be together for a very long time, around his need to keep her safe, and happy, and provided for.

He remembers all the times she'd said, "I love you," and realizes with a dawning, razor edged horror that she never said it first. Always, there had been that beat of silence after he'd said it, before she caught up and returned the sentiment. He remembers the jealousy he'd felt, and the guilt he'd felt for having it, because he was so sure that he was wrong, that she loved him, and that he was just being unreasonable again. He's choking on his own saliva now, crying profusely into the tight cup of his hands, snot dripping over his knuckles so quickly, it's almost like water.

He remembers that she had never loved him, and that she had always had one eye on Jonathan, and that she'd taken the first chance she'd had, and Steve had said it was okay, because he knew. _He knew_ he wasn't good enough for her, knew he had been fooling himself all along. He remembers, now, that he was never good enough, even before Billy came along and contaminated and putrefied him, wrecking him beyond repair. He can only sob harder, because he realizes that it doesn't _matter_ that he's in love with Dustin (and he definitely is, if the nauseating, vicious anguish lancing through him at the thought is any indication). He wasn't good enough for Nancy, and now, after everything that's happened, he's certainly not good enough for Dustin.

He doesn't notice, at first that the door to the bathroom has opened, or that Dustin has come in and is kneeling next to him. He barely even registers the feeling of someone wrapping their arms around him until he feels Dustin's hand in his hair, fingers gently petting him as he makes quiet, soothing noises. Steve can't help it when he turns into the embrace, can't stop himself clinging hopelessly to Dustin, burying his face in Dustin's neck as he tries to stop weeping just long enough to get a real breath in. Dustin holds him tight, tall enough now that he can basically fold his whole body around Steve, making it almost impossible for him to go anywhere, and consequently, making him feel safe and secure, even as he's panting around his own wracking sobs.

He thinks he may be babbling, also, but isn't really sure what he's saying, doesn't have the presence of mind to hope that it's not anything incriminating. He is aware, distantly, that this is a panic attack as much as it is a breakdown, and he hopes that Dustin will forgive him for anything stupid that might come out of his mouth. Then he thinks he might've said that out loud, because Dustin squeezes him a little tighter and murmurs directly into his ear, "It's okay, you can say whatever you want." Which Steve's mouth thinks is great, because he can definitely tell he's babbling now, his breath evening out as he uses it to speak instead of cry. He can feel a wet spot on Dustin's shirt, where his mouth and cheek are still pressed, and he thinks he'll probably feel bad about that later, but for now, he just wants to burrow further into the crook of his neck, because it's warm and soft, and safe.

He smells good, too - familiar and calming, like the only place Steve knows he'll be okay, that people will take care of him and love him. He thinks maybe he said that out loud, too, because Dustin laughs, a small, startled huff, and says, "Thanks, you too," and keeps petting Steve's hair, gentle, like he wants to make sure Steve knows he's not making fun of him for saying something like that.

It makes Steve's insides clench up, squeezing tight around that warm ache that started all this, and he feels his breath starting to hitch again, and thinks he needs to do something before he drops back into panic mode. So he deliberately breathes deep and says, "She never loved me, you know." Because, he thinks, maybe if he says it out loud, to someone who really cares about him, it might start to hurt a little less. Like cutting open a wound that didn't heal right, so it has another chance to heal cleaner.

He feels Dustin tense up around him, try to gather him even closer, even though they're basically already as wound up in each other as they can be. Dustin doesn't say anything, though, just holds on, hands flexing softly in his hair and against his back. Steve thinks that probably counts as permission to keep going, so he says, "I realized, she never said 'I love you' first. It was always me. And she always hesitated. I never noticed, but looking back it's obvious." He lets out a shuddering breath. There are still tears leaking out of him, and snot dripping down his face, and probably all over Dustin's neck, but he's still breathing, can still speak. He thinks maybe it will be cathartic if he just says it all. "I always felt guilty for how jealous I was, because I thought that I was just being unreasonable. But she really did always want him. I was never good enough. I knew I wasn't good enough, but I loved her so much, I hoped that it wouldn't matter."

"Steve, no." Dustin's voice is firm and hard, brooking no argument. "You aren't the one who wasn't good enough. She used you because she was too scared to deal with everything on her own, and she cheated on you the first chance she got. She treated you like shit, but you never deserved it. You were good to her. Everyone knows you were good to her."

Steve can't help the laugh that bubbles up in him, bitter to the point of poison. " _He_ knew," he says, dark and angry. Billy had seen him, had known how things were. He had known that Steve was someone it was okay to destroy. "He knew it would be okay if it was me, because-" He can't finish the sentence, his breath starting to come fast again from mentioning Billy out loud like this.

"No." Dustin pushes Steve back, keeping a hold of him, but forcing them far enough apart that they can see each other's faces. "No," he says again, and Steve has never seen this kind of deadly, still calm in Dustin. It's startling, and a little scary, but also somehow contagious. His calm certainty seems to radiate, bleeding into Steve enough that he feels the vise around his lungs start to loosen. He breathes deep, looking at Dustin's face as an anchor, trying to pull himself out of what is secretly a very familiar thought.

"What Billy did," Dustin continues, petting Steve's neck gently when he shudders at the name, "had nothing to do with you, or whether or not you were good or bad. It was about him wanting power. He saw that you were hurting, because someone took advantage of all the things about you that make you worthy of being loved, and he knew that he could use that to control you. He was a piece of shit, and you didn't deserve anything he ever did to you." Dustin's voice is slowly becoming more watery, cracking on his vowels like it did back when it was changing. He sounds like he might be about to start crying, but his expression never wavers and his hands are firm on Steve, holding him secure as he says, "And you didn't deserve anything Nancy ever did to you, because you are a good person, and you have a good heart, and I wish I could make you believe that you didn't deserve any of the shit that happened to you, because _I_ fucking love you the way she should have, and I think you've had enough hurt to last a lifetime, and I _know_ that you deserve to be happy and have someone tell you how good you are every day until you die."

Steve is a little stunned, his mind struggling to keep up with what's happening, his body exhausted by the constant swinging of his emotional pendulum. It's strange, to have Dustin say these things to him, because he trusts Dustin implicitly, so if Dustin says it, he knows it has to be true, even if everything in him is screaming otherwise. Steve knows he's worthless, but Dustin is here telling him he's not, and that he shouldn't blame himself for things that he's almost certain _are_ his fault. It's confusing, trying to decide who to believe, and Steve feels like his mental capacity is the lowest it's been in years as he tries to wade through all the thoughts in his head. "I don't know what to believe," he says, and if it sounds like he's begging for help, that's because he is.

"Then believe me," Dustin replies, with absolute surety. "You know you can trust me. You know I have good judgment. Right?"

Steve nods, slow and still a little unsure, but Dustin is right. He does trust him, and his judgment. He has no reason not to. Dustin is one of the most reliable people he knows, and one of the smartest. It only makes sense that, if Steve is getting mixed messages, he ought to trust the one coming from Dustin.

"Okay, good." Dustin smiles at him, gentle and encouraging. "So, listen, and I'm going to tell you exactly what you should believe, okay?"

Steve nods again, lets himself cling to Dustin's arms, tries not to look too desperate, even though he thinks maybe he's failing.

"You are good enough. You are worthy of love and happiness. You don't now, and never have deserved to be treated with anything but respect. You deserve to be happy and feel safe." He's taken Steve's face in his hands, is wiping gently at his cheeks and nose, careless of the fact that he's getting Steve's snot on his fingers, only trying to clean Steve's face for him. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, and more than I will ever love anyone else, and I'm telling you that because I want you to understand that you _earned_ it. It's not because I'm being magnanimous and selfless, or because I'm taking pity on you after all you've been through. It's because you're so wonderful that I can't do anything _but_ love you. And me telling you this doesn't mean anything needs to change, or that you even need to say anything about it. I don't want you to think that you have to do anything at all about it, but I want you to know, because I want you to remember this any time you start to think that you don't deserve to be loved. Because you trust me, and you know I have excellent judgment, and I love you, so you are definitely good enough."

Steve just looks at him for a long moment, heart beating hard and steady in his chest, throat tight around the realization of just what Dustin is confessing to him right now. He feels warm, and safe; happy despite the abject terror he feels when he thinks about what he could say in response, how it could change things between them. He's not ready, he thinks, to go there, but still, knowing that if he wanted to, it would be okay, steadies him, soothes the raw edges of his nerves enough that he can smile a little, or at least smooth the frown off of his face. "When did you get so cool?" he asks, because he's genuinely a little bit in awe of Dustin's confidence and wisdom.

Dustin laughs, wipes his hand on his t shirt, and then nudges Steve's shoulder very gently with his fist. "I've always been this cool," he says, somehow sounding tense and relieved all at once. "Took you long enough to notice," he adds, a little sarcastic, but still soft; aware that they are treading around open wounds, careful not to drag them back into the bloody edges.

For a few minutes, they just sit there while Steve breathes, slow and deliberate, and holds on to Dustin's wrist, so that he can't take his hand off Steve's shoulder. He doesn't think Dustin would take it away, but his fingers on Dustin's wrist give him something to focus on while he tries to fully come out of his spiral. He pulls his knees to his chest, lets his arms and Dustin's rest on them so they won't get tired. He can feel Dustin's pulse, tripping against the tips of his fingers, a little fast, like he's nervous, despite his unflappably calm exterior. Steve knows that this can't have been easy for him, either; knows that he's too young to deal with someone as broken as Steve is; is in awe of his grace and poise under the weight of such pressure. He aches with gratitude for Dustin's uncanny ability to assess a need and somehow find a way to fulfill it, even if it means laying himself bare to balance the scales.

He looks at Dustin, sitting next to him now, letting his hand be held hostage, eyes closed and head tilted back against the cabinets as he waits patiently for Steve to be ready to move. There's no doubt, he loves this boy in a way that's calamitous and all consuming. He can see, looking at the way things have been between them, that it isn't new, either. It's just been hiding, growing outside of his awareness, waiting for him to notice, waiting for him to understand how much he _needs_ Dustin, how integral he is to his happiness.

He loosens his grip on Dustin's wrist, slides their hands together, interlacing their fingers, watching as Dustin opens his eyes and turns to look at him, surprised, and maybe a little apprehensive. It's only fair, Steve thinks, for him to be honest, after Dustin taking the risk to lay himself open the way he had. "I love you too," he says, and it's like pulling teeth, to convince his body to let go of the words when it's just been through hell remembering the consequences of the last time he admitted that to someone. Still, he grits his teeth and pushes onward. "A lot. More than Nancy." He can feel his grip tightening on Dustin's hand, and tries very hard to relax it, but Dustin just squeezes back. "I can't..." He stops because he feels a flicker of panic rising. He breathes deep, again, looks at Dustin's face, placid and encouraging, and feels calm again. "I'm not to where I can do anything about it, but you are more important to me than anyone else, and I don't want you to think it's just you."

Dustin smiles at him, and it's that devastating, totally unfair smile that Steve was talking about earlier - the one that sort of makes all of his insides feel like sunshine flavored jello. "Okay," Dustin says, sounding almost giddy. "That's okay. Nothing has to be different." He squeezes Steve's hand, and lets his face go a little serious again, his tone full of gravitas when he adds, "I just want you to be happy."

Steve looks at him for a long time, a little lost in the awe of it all, a little devastated, and a little exuberant. He feels good, he realizes, despite all the panic, and the crying, and the terrible memories, and the nose dive into rock bottom self worth territory. He feels like, maybe, he needed to let himself fall screaming into that hole so that he could look up and see sunlight, and Dustin reaching down to pull him out of it, so that he could realize that he's not in it alone, and that, even if he has bad days, he has someone that is always going to be there to tell him it's alright. It's good, he thinks. Dustin is good, and they are good together, even if it's the same as it always has been. It's better than it always has been, because now, he thinks, there is a possibility for more, later on, when they're both ready for it.

He smiles, just a little bit, ignores how it feels foreign on his face right now, the way it pulls at the tight, salt crusted skin of his cheeks, focuses on the way Dustin perks up when he does it. "I am happy," he says, a little wobbly. "I'm happy with you."

 


	5. Chapter 05

Things have been better since his meltdown in the bathroom in a lot of ways. It's hard to really quantify, since not much has actively changed, but things with Dustin are different, and it makes everything else feel more manageable. He has a lot on his plate (both of them do), but somehow, having Dustin there makes everything seem easier, and less terrifying, like even if things go wrong, it will all work out, because he knows he has people there to help him pick up the pieces. He's four months out from actually graduating college, with his degree in sports science, and a minor in education, and he hasn't told his dad yet, but he already has a job lined up teaching gym classes and coaching at the middle school, and he's been shadowing classes already for over a month, to make sure he's ready when next year starts.

He feels a little crazy, can hardly believe that he's actually succeeding when his prospects at the start had been so poor, but also, it feels like this is exactly how things are meant to go. Dustin's going to college at a fancy school a couple of hours away (he'd applied early, using some of his extra class credits and already been accepted when his senior year started), which Steve thinks will probably be hard for both of them to manage, but knows will be the best way for Dustin to do what he wants to do going forward.

What's important, Steve thinks, is that they are both on a path to a future they can share, where they can both do something they love, and have a life together. Even before everything that happened, he's realized, that was what he wanted. There is no future for him without the Hendersons in it, and that's been true for a long time now. It helps, though, that things have shifted for the better between them, that they have an even stronger understanding of each other than they did before. It helps that Dustin treats him like he's fragile, and doesn't care to push him for even the smallest things.

After his breakdown, and the big mutual confession, he'd been apprehensive, unsure of how things were going to play out going forward. He'd been afraid that things would change, and they'd be less stable, unable to be around each other without letting things neither of them were ready for get in the way. It had taken a few days of fumbling, uncomfortable tension - days where Steve had been convinced he'd made a huge mistake, and that they would never be comfortable with each other in the same way again, before Dustin had had enough and sat him down for a talk.

He'd asked Steve, before they started, if it was okay to hold his hand, even though they've held hands a hundred times before, and Steve had been confused for a moment, as much by the question itself, as by the feeling of all the tension running out of him, like he needed to be asked and hadn't even realized it. "It's different now," Dustin had said, presumably in response to Steve's obvious bafflement. "I know it's different, and that it's not easy for you."

Steve had felt a sort of warm awe come over him, and recognized it as a feeling that only Dustin ever really got out of him, because only Dustin ever impressed him this way, and only Dustin ever startled him with these kinds of insights and ability to understand Steve before he himself did. He thought that this kind of shit was probably a big contributor to the whole, him being in love with Dustin thing.

What he'd said in response was a very raspy, almost inaudible, "Okay." Dustin was right. It wasn't easy for Steve to hold his hand anymore. Not when it was obvious that they were more than friends, and everything in Steve was screaming at him to protect himself from the inevitable hurt of it all. It wasn't easy, but he wanted to do it, because he had done it before, and he trusted Dustin more than anyone else in the world, and Dustin had _asked_ , and that was important.

So Dustin had taken Steve's hands in his, cupped them gently, like he was delicate and needed protecting, and he'd asked Steve what he wanted. Steve had panicked, and clenched his fingers around Dustin's reflexively, looking for comfort, because he wanted a lot of things, but they were all things he knew he wasn't ready for, and his thoughts were racing so fast that he couldn't seem to catch any of them, tripping over each other in wild disarray, making it impossible for him to piece them together into a sentence. After a seemingly interminable moment of trying desperately to come up with an answer, Dustin had put him out of his misery, shushing him gently and saying, "Okay, it's okay. You don't have to say anything. Just breathe."

So Steve did, and after another couple of minutes, his fingers unclenched, and he turned their hands over between them to rub apologetically at Dustin's joints. Dustin had smiled at him and said, "It's okay. They're used to it," but in a gentle, teasing way that put Steve at ease, and made him feel like Dustin was maybe thinking fondly of the way Steve always came to him for comfort. Steve had smiled, a little rueful, but grateful to be having this conversation with Dustin instead of someone else, who might not have cared so much about him.

Dustin had let them stay like that for a little while longer, waiting for Steve to relax again, before saying very carefully, "I'm going to tell you what I want, and we can go from there, okay?" Which had made Steve nervous, and afraid, because he couldn't bear the thought of their wants not lining up, of losing Dustin because of how broken he was; but he had nodded, because he knew they had to talk about it or things would only get worse.

"I want to be with you in whatever way makes you comfortable, because I love you, and you bring me a lot of happiness, and I want to do the same for you. I know I'm young, and you have a lot of shit to deal with, and I know that things are hard because of that, but the most important thing to me is having you in my life." His hands had been a little sweaty, like he was just as nervous as Steve, and it made Steve want nothing more than to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay, and that he was doing a great job, but he didn't want to interrupt, so instead he had just held a little tighter, and kept his gaze steady on Dustin's as he continued. "I also, uh...I also want to do stuff with you that people do when they're together, but I think it's really important for you to know that I'd rather be with you and never kiss, or have sex, or any of that stuff if that's what you need, than be with someone else."

Steve had been surprised by the strength of his own negative reaction to that, had even recoiled a bit physically, before scrambling to keep hold of Dustin's hands and say very fast, and overly loud, "I don't want to never have sex!" Then there had been a beat of stunned silence, where Dustin's eyes had gone wide and his cheeks had gotten a little pink, and Steve could feel his own face heating up as mortification took over, because Jesus, he had four years on Dustin, shouldn't he be the more articulate of the two of them? "I mean," he'd corrected, at a much more reasonable volume. "I appreciate the sentiment, a lot, like so much, but the amount of time I need is definitely not _forever_."

Dustin had laughed at him, sweet and gentle, apologizing because, "It's just the way you said it." And Steve had felt himself relax, because Dustin was clearly very fond of him, and obviously willing to wait for him, and actually _wanted_ him, and knowing that, the rest seemed like it might not be such a monumental obstacle after all.

Eventually, they had finished the conversation, had settled that the best way to move forward was to simply talk about it often, to see where they stood. Dustin had asked if he could hold Steve's hand more often, and Steve had said yes. Then Dustin had asked if it was okay to think of him while he jerked off, and Steve's brain had temporarily shorted out, because he hadn't really been prepared to think about Dustin jerking off, and he hadn't really been prepared for the way it had made him clench up and go hot all over. But after a second Steve had felt himself laughing, flushed and a little turned on, and Dustin had been smiling, impish and vulnerable all at once and Steve could only tell him that, yes, it was fine, that he was honored. He was teasing, but also touched that Dustin felt he had to ask, didn't even want to impinge on Steve's boundaries in the privacy of his own head.

In the months since that conversation, Steve has gotten a lot better at talking about things like this with Dustin. He's gotten used to saying out loud the things that his mind screams at him to keep to himself, has learned to ignore the voice in his head that tells him that revealing his feelings will get them trampled on. Dustin is careful with him, treats him like he's breakable, but not in a way that rankles. He checks with Steve before everything, even if it's something as small as holding hands or hugging - things they do every day, and Steve thinks the relief he feels every time Dustin asks if something is okay is a pretty good indicator that he _needs_ to be asked. He feels safe with Dustin, and in Dustin's home, with his mom, in a way that he doesn't anywhere else.

There's also the fact that Dustin seems to need Steve just as much. He comes to Steve for advice before anyone else, trusts Steve's judgment, even if they don't always agree on things. He vents to Steve about anything he needs to, trusts him not to let his secrets out to anyone else. He tells Steve about his nightmares, and how, sometimes, he's still not sure that hell won't come back to Hawkins someday. He tells Steve how he's afraid to go away to college, because he's never been so far from home for so long, and he worries about his mom, worries about himself, worries about Steve. He tells him that he doesn't think he's allowed to appear apprehensive in front of anyone else, because he's supposed to have his life together, supposed to keep up a brave face for his mom, who is slowly falling into empty nest syndrome before he's even gone. Steve holds him and tells him it will be okay, that it's always scary to start a new part of your life, and that he'll take care of Claudia while Dustin is away, and that they'll visit him as often as possible, and Dustin believes him and is comforted.

There's something miraculous, Steve thinks, about needing someone so much, and showing them how broken you are, and knowing that, in return, they still trust you to care for them back. He had worried, for so long, that he was too damaged to go forward with someone on level ground, but with Dustin, he feels like they hold each other up in equal measures. He knows Dustin is too young, has felt so guilty about it that he's brought it up a few times. Dustin usually just hugs him, tells him it's okay to feel however he feels, and reminds him that they haven't done anything to feel guilty over.

Once, he even sat Steve down preemptively to lay out an entire argument about power imbalance, and emotional maturity, and a lot of stuff about trauma, and Steve's pretty sure the point was that they're probably a lot closer to level ground than other people their ages might be, and he had cited sources and everything. It had honestly been so endearing to imagine Dustin in the library, researching psychology and basically writing a paper about it just to ease Steve's conscience, that he had sort of just wanted to kiss him. The want had been undercut with a little thrill of fear, too, though, and Steve thought that meant it wasn't a good time yet. The speech had worked, though, and Steve hasn't found himself feeling guilty about it nearly as often as he had before.

Instead, he's been trying to focus on letting himself want things. It's hard, because there is always an undercurrent of fear there, an instinct that he hasn't been able to train out of his body, telling him to run when there's physical closeness involved, even if he knows it's illogical when it's with Dustin. Still, he's been trying, and Dustin has been patient with him, never giving him a hard time if he waffles about anything, which makes it easier to ask. It's gotten him to the point where he's almost always comfortable with normal things like hugs, and hand holding, and cuddling - the things he never would've blinked an eye at before, but which scare him a lot more now that he knows he wants Dustin, and that Dustin wants him back.

Right now, Steve realizes, as he watches Dustin shuffling around in the kitchen making a snack, he really wants. He's sitting at the breakfast bar, spinning idly on a stool while he waits, and suddenly it feels all kinds of unbearable that Dustin is over there, far enough away that Steve can't even reach out and touch him. He's almost embarrassed for the way his voice cracks when he calls out, quiet and shaky, "Dusty?"

Dustin looks up immediately, and is already dropping the knife and wiping his hands when he says, "Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?"

Steve swallows hard, nods, and tries to ignore the way he can _feel_ his face heating up and turning red like the traitor it is. "Can you just...come here?"

Dustin is there almost immediately, standing just in front of Steve, close enough for Steve to reach out and touch him. He looks soft and confused, and a little worried, and Steve feels bad, because he honestly doesn't even know what he's doing, isn't at all sure what he wants, just knows that he feels jittery and unsatisfied, like he needs something and Dustin can give it to him. "Sorry," he says, and he sounds somewhere between panicked and desperate. "I don't know what I want."

"Okay," Dustin murmurs, soothing. "That's okay. Can I touch you?"

Steve nods, reaches out blindly for Dustin, is a little alarmed at how adrift he feels, like he's about to topple over the edge of a cliff and is reaching for the only thing that can keep him grounded. Dustin hugs him, slow and firm, and Steve tries to scoot into it, but realizes his knees are in the way, knocking into Dustin's hips, keeping them at a relatively _too fucking far_ distance. He makes a frustrated noise, hands clenched in Dustin's shirt, and feels like petulant child as he pouts. He wants _closer_ , but he can feel his heart racing in his chest, fluttering and erratic as he considers the problem. Dustin is patient with him, running a hand soothingly over his spine as he waits for Steve to decide what to do. He pushes his face into Dustin's neck, pulls Dustin towards him and moves forward on his seat at the same time, dropping his knees open to make room between his legs.

Steve shudders, feels stupid and oversensitive, but can't help it, can't even get any words out to explain himself as he clings to Dustin, breathing on his neck, shaking in the circle of his arms as he tries to get a hold of himself. "Okay," Dustin says again, quiet and comforting, still petting Steve softly. "It's okay." He shifts a little where he's standing, bringing Steve closer, making the angle more comfortable for them both. Steve feels the brush of his hips against the inside of his thighs, more of an awareness than any sort of sensation, and it makes his pulse hammer again.

He realizes, finally, why he's so keyed up, closes his legs experimentally, just enough pressure that he can feel it through his jeans. He hasn't had someone close to him here, like this, in years, and it's been even longer since it was someone who wasn't trying to hurt him. He lets out a shaky breath, realizes belatedly that there is a sort of keening, wounded animal noise coming out of him and tries to stop it as Dustin shushes him gently.

"Dusty," he whimpers, and it comes out as a long, whining thing that he barely recognizes.

He can feel Dustin's pulse beating fast in his neck, pounding hard against the soft skin where Steve's nose is pressed. He's breathing a little fast, too, but he's not letting go, or moving away. He holds on, lets Steve stay where he is, pressing his thighs into Dustin's hips and then releasing again experimentally. Dustin's voice sounds raspy and low when he says, "Are you okay?"

Steve nods, tries not to sound too wrecked when he replies, "I think I like this." It's an understatement, he realizes, as he shifts again and notices that he's fully hard in his jeans. "I'm sorry," he says, still clinging, but trying very hard not to press closer, because they're not to this point yet, and this isn't why he started this. "I'm really turned on right now."

Dustin makes an aborted, strangled sort of noise low his his throat and says, "Yeah, me too." He's still running a hand gently over Steve's back, straying occasionally to pet at the nape of his neck, chaste and comforting despite everything. He clears his throat a little, jostling Steve slightly, sending another hard spike of warmth through him so that it's difficult to breathe for a second. "Is it your thighs?" He asks, curious and without judgment.

"Yeah, I think so." He's a little breathless, and a little shell shocked. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't mean to."

He feels Dustin hand on his neck then, coaxing him into looking up at him, and it's a little awkward at this angle, but he doesn't really mind, because Dustin presses their foreheads together gingerly and his hand is warm and soft against Steve's cheek. "It's okay," he says. "It's okay to get turned on, even if you don't want to do anything about it. It's okay to turn me on even if you're not going to do anything about it. I'm a teenager, I get turned on really easily. I don't expect anything to happen, just because everybody's turned on. You're allowed to feel things, even if you're not ready to do something about it."

Steve looks at him for a long moment, overwhelmed and relieved, trying unsuccessfully to come up with something to say.

"I love you," Is what ends up coming out, and it sounds like a prayer, soft and reverent.

Dustin smiles, happy and soft. "Yeah, I love you too," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world and he thinks it's adorable that Steve needs to be reminded.

It feels like someone has buried a hand in Steve's chest, taken his heart in their fist, and is squeezing it relentlessly, trying to burst it between their fingers. It's hard to breathe from the ache of it, and Steve is blindsided by how much he wants to kiss Dustin. He feels another embarrassing, harrowing noise scrabbling out of him, and can't quite stop it. Dustin looks at him, tender and patient, and Steve feels his thumb sweep gently over the arc of his cheek, delicate and consoling. "Will you kiss me?" He asks, wounded.

Dustin looks surprised, like he genuinely wasn't expecting anything from Steve right now, despite Steve giving him all kinds of signals, and it makes Steve want it more, knowing that Dustin would have walked away with nothing if Steve had asked him to. "Are you sure?" he asks, tentative and hopeful.

Steve can feel his heart starting to trip and sprint, but there is no apprehension or fear, no voice in the back of his head screaming at him to stop, only a sharp, overwhelming sense of desperation. " _Please_ ," he says, and his voice wavers like he's on the verge of tears.

Dustin kisses him slowly, cups Steve's face in his hands, and shifts them around so they'll have a better angle before pressing his lips delicately against Steve's. He moves almost shyly, and Steve vaguely remembers that Dustin has never really kissed a guy before, thinks it's probably not fair for him to have to do all the work. So he pushes up into it a little bit, pressing his thighs tighter into Dustin's sides, trying not to get too distracted by the tight coil of heat that drops in his belly. Dustin makes a little noise when he does it and moves a hand to Steve's shoulder, squeezing almost too hard, holding on like he might be a little bit frantic, but is trying to hold back. It's as much motivation as Steve needs to slide his arms up around Dustin's neck and pull him in closer, opening his mouth just enough to lick at the part of his lips.

Dustin opens to him immediately, and he may be inexperienced, but Steve is sort of scandalized by how good he is at this. He's gentle, and still a little timid, but somehow manages to take control out of Steve's hands with very little effort, pressing his tongue back against Steve's and licking into his mouth in a way that makes Steve glad he's already seated. He's sweet, though, petting Steve's face gently, sometimes pulling back to give him lingering closed mouth kisses, or to nip at his lips playfully, teeth sharp, but careful. Steve is dimly aware of the fact that he is being exceptionally noisy - little, whimpering moans tearing out of him a rate that is honestly ridiculous. Dustin doesn't seem to mind, though; is making low, quiet noises of his own as he deepens the kiss again.

It's good in a way that Steve doesn't ever remember having before, and he suspects a lot of it has to do with the fact that it's Dustin, who has never hurt him and is always there to take care of him, and is doing the same now, giving Steve exactly what he needs, only because he asked for it. Even when they slow down, the kisses going long and lethargic, Dustin pulling things back a little at a time to give them a chance to find balance again, Steve is still reeling, overwarm and wanting, like he could go on forever, if it were just like this, with no fear or doubt snapping at his heels. Dustin rests their foreheads together again, smiling dazed and adorable, and says softly, "Was that okay?"

Steve has to try very hard not to just kiss him again. "Yeah," he says instead, a little slurred. "Good. Was good."

Dustin laughs, and Steve can feel him draw his thumb across the arch of his cheek, his expression reverent. "Me too," he says, as if he can't quite believe what's happening. "I think we should probably do it again sometime. Whenever you're comfortable."

Steve loves him, like a flash bomb going off inside of him, and like a slow burning fire, consuming everything, and it's hard to breathe around the surge of it rushing through him at the moment, scattering everything else inside of him to make room for this uncontrollable swell of affection and happiness. " _Thank you,_ " he says, and hopes Dustin understands that he means, _Please keep me forever._

 


	6. Chapter 06

Steve's palms are sweating profusely, and he can feel moisture starting to gather at his hairline and on the back of his neck as well. His heart is beating hard enough that he can see his shirt moving with it, and he feels like he might pass out at any moment. Still, he's determined, and he knows he needs to do this now, before it's too late, before things get really out of hand. He's already told Dustin and Claudia that he may need to stay with them for a few days while things blow over, and he has his job offer letter folded neatly next to him, ready to quell any suspicions or doubt from his father.

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to make eye contact with the man, who is sitting to his right, at the head of the table, eyeing him sternly with a look of pre-disappointment on his face, as if he expects nothing but failure from Steve. It stings, but Steve knows that it's just his father's way, and tries not to let it make him any more nervous.

"Dad," he says, annoyed at the waver in his voice. "I want to tell you this now, because I want to give you some time to adjust to the idea. I'm graduating in three months, and I know that your plan is for me to come back to work for you when I do, but I have decided to do something different." He can see his father's face twisting, getting ready to spit an explosive response, and he holds up a hand to try to halt the inevitable tirade. "Please, just let me tell you before you respond." He slides the offer letter across table, taps it twice with two fingers, and tries to sound as sure as possible when he continues, "I'm going to be coaching and teaching gym class at the middle school. This is my job offer letter, which I have already accepted. I will have all the benefits I need, and this is why I took the sports science degree. I know this isn't what you wanted, but the decision is already made."

He watches, horrified but trying not to show it, as his father's face morphs through several emotions very quickly - rage, disappointment, disgust, more rage, and then finally, a placid, deadly looking neutrality. The man looks at him for a long time, and Steve suspects he's waiting for Steve to crumble, to break down and beg for forgiveness, to offer to give up the job he wants so that he can work under his father's thumb for the rest of his life, just as they'd planned. He feels feverish under the scrutiny, nerves scraped raw, but he won't back down, even if it costs him his parents. He has enough money saved to support himself for a while, even without a yearly salary kicking in come August, and he'll even be able to pay off his college debts on his own if need be once he's employed. His parents have long since given up any pretense at actively caring for him, and though he would mourn the loss of this family, he knows he has another family that he's built for himself, waiting to hold him together if he needs it.

After several excruciating moments, his father finally breaks, making a harsh, scoffing sound in his throat before saying, "You're serious?"

Steve nods. "Yes. I understand if you aren't happy, but this is what I've decided. This is what I want for my future."

His father lets out a sudden, ear splitting bark of laughter, dark and vicious, and shoves his chair back from the table. "After everything I've done for you, to keep you on your feet, after all that nasty business with that _boy_ could've ruined you, this is what you've _decided_?" He stands, and turns slightly away. Steve can see him pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing hard enough to flare his nostrils, his face splotchy and red.

After what feels like a long time, he sighs deeply, and turns back to Steve. "Fine. If this is what you want, we'll see how long you last. You'll of course need to find yourself a place to live in the meantime, as you clearly don't appreciate the support your mother and I have given you." He puts a heavy hand on Steve's shoulder, and it's a titanic effort for him not to flinch, to remain steady under the relentless pressure of his father's grip. "You're mother is going to be so disappointed, but I'm sure we can work it out somehow. You can stay here until the end of the month. After that, of course we will still expect regular visits from you, to make your mother happy."

Steve nods, resolute, and stands, dislodging his father's hand from his shoulder. "I'll go to the Henderson's for the next couple of days, to give mom time to process," he says, though his intentions are entirely selfish. "I'll start looking for places to move immediately. I hope over time, you'll come to see that this is what's best for me. I'm sorry you're disappointed.  Thank you for everything you've done." He leaves, then, with nothing but his keys in hand. He could go upstairs and grab a few things first, but he still has a few changes of clothes at Dustin's, and a few spare doses of meds if he needs them, and everything else, he can do without for now.

By the time he's pulling into the Henderson's driveway, he's shaking so hard he can't get the keys out of the ignition. He sits there, trying to breathe and calm down long enough that Dustin actually comes outside to get him, pulls the driver side door open and peels Steve's hand off the steering wheel, holding it in his own with out asking first, which is good, because Steve is definitely having a panic attack right now, and probably couldn't answer if he tried. Dustin reaches over him with his other arm and takes the keys from the ignition, then undoes his seat belt for him, carefully holding it out of the way so it doesn't hit Steve when it slides back into place.

"You're okay," Dustin murmurs, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of Steve's heart pounding in his ears. He cups Steve's face with his free hand, fingers splayed warm over his neck and jaw, lays his forehead gently against Steve's temple and says quietly into his ear, "You're okay, just come sit in the grass with me."

Steve leans into him for a moment, then lets himself be pulled out of the car, stumbles into the grass with Dustin, where he collapses into him, just a bit. It's a little chilly still, but the spring sun has warmed the ground enough that it's not uncomfortable, and Dustin lets Steve lean into him, breathing hard and fast against his neck as he tries to calm down.

"I'm going to hug you, okay?"

Steve nods into Dustin's shoulder and is relieved beyond reason when he feels Dustin's arms around him, solid and reassuring. He concentrates on breathing more slowly, inhaling through his nose instead of his mouth, and letting the scent of Dustin's skin calm him even more. He hugs Dustin back, and it's a little bit awkward, half sitting, half sprawled as they are, but he doesn't care. He feels safe, and happy, and his heart has retreated back into his chest, no longer clogging his throat with its desperate beats.

Dustin holds him for what feels like a long time, but is probably only a few minutes, before asking, "So, I take it things didn't go well?"

Steve laughs, a quick, surprised huff, because, "No, it probably went as good as it could. I held it together until I left. He's pissed, but there was no shouting or anything." He takes another deep breath, pushes his face further into Dustin's neck, close enough that he could taste the skin just by opening his mouth a little further. "I have to find a place to move by the end of the month, but that's okay." It's muffled, but he thinks Dustin understands him anyways.

"That's good," Dustin says, hand migrating to Steve's hair, petting him lightly. "I'm really proud of you," he continues, tone serious.

Steve presses his mouth against the skin over Dustin's pulse, kissing him, resisting the urge to put his tongue there, and then mumbling a soft, "Thank you."

Dustin's hand tightens in his hair a little bit, and it feels good enough that Steve wouldn't mind sitting out here all afternoon if it meant they could stay like this. But they are in the middle of Dustin's front yard, in full view of the street, and as much as he's not ashamed to be with Dustin, he's also not so stupid that he thinks this is a good idea in a town this small, never mind that no one important even knows about them yet. He peels himself away reluctantly, keeps Dustin's hand in his, just because he thinks he can get away with it, and says, "We should probably go inside."

Dustin gives him a considering look. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he replies, shaky, but convincing. "Sorry. I just freaked out, but it really was okay. I'm glad I did it."

Dustin smiles at him, bright and devastating, and it makes butterflies swarm in Steve's stomach, even though he's seen it a thousand times before.

When they're back inside, Dustin asks to kiss him, has a look on his face like he needs it, and it settles in Steve's belly, molten and wonderful when he agrees. He lets Dustin push him back against the front door, lets him use that extra half inch of height that he'd been so proud to gain on Steve to cage him in, just a bit, and if he's being honest, he swoons a little when Dustin's mouth is finally on his, has to put his arms around Dustin's neck and hang on, lest he sink down the door on jelly legs.

It's good, like it always is with Dustin, just the right amount of dirty and sweet, Dustin's smart tongue always put to use in just the right way to make Steve moan and press into him, and wish that they could do more, because by now all it takes to make him hard is _thinking_ about this. Dustin's hands are good, too, always careful to stay in places that Steve is comfortable, but still spreading heat through his body in a way that makes him ache for more. Steve shudders, and tries to hold down a sharp whimper as Dustin gently pushes a knee between his thighs, just enough that he can feel it, but not enough to press anywhere delicate.

It's takes Steve's foggy brain a ridiculously long time to process what's happening when he hears a sharp gasp somewhere across the room, followed by a surprised, "Oh my!"

Dustin stops almost immediately, shushing Steve gently when he makes an involuntary, hurt noise in response. He runs his knuckles gently over Steve's cheek, and takes hold of his hand before turning around, keeping his body in front of Steve's when he says apprehensively, "Hey Mom."

Which gets Steve's attention so fast he almost brains himself on the door snapping his head up to look across the room, where Claudia is standing, and, confusingly, smiling. Steve swallows hard, feels his throat go dry as he raises the hand that's not being held by Dustin in a small, timid wave. "Hi, Claudia," he says, and wants to smack himself, because he should really be saying something else, anything else to explain, or apologize, or something.

Claudia just smiles brighter, gets the look on her face that she gets when she thinks whatever is happening is both hilarious and adorable, and says, looking straight at Steve, "Don't worry, sweetie. I had my suspicions." She looks at Dustin then, and continues, "I'm going to make dinner now, so you can tell me all about how this happened when we eat."

Then she crosses the room, pulls both of them into a hug, one under each arm, and he can feel that, next to him, Dustin is just as stiff and surprised as he is. She holds them there until they both relax, and then steps back, puts a hand on each of their cheeks, pushing their heads together a little so she can look at them both at once, and says, "I'm happy for you. You're good for each other."

When she's disappeared into the kitchen, Steve buries his face in Dustin's shoulder, and says, mortified, "I cannot believe she heard me make that noise."

Dustin's laugh is rich and warm, and also doesn't fucking stop for the next 20 minutes, which is just, so rude. Eventually, though, Steve laughs with him, and it's good.

 


	7. Chapter 07

Dustin likes to keep his birthdays simple these days and is pretty grateful that the years of neighborhood parties, where all the kids are invited have passed. He doesn't have a lot of friends, but he has more than some, and having them around, hanging out, eating and playing games or watching movies is enough for him. Especially these days, when they all spend more and more time apart, their lives hurtling rapidly towards them all being torn apart, scattered to the wind for college, most likely never to be reunited for significant amounts of time again.

He's turning 18 today, and the entire party has gathered at his house. They didn't come bearing gifts, because he asked them not to, because this is probably the last time they're all going to be together, just them, outside of school, and he doesn't want it to be about presents and material things. Steve had given him something earlier, before they all arrived - a watch, simply designed to fit with basically anything Dustin could want to wear, but obviously expensive beyond belief, with Dustin's name engraved on the back. Steve had confessed when Dustin opened it that he'd had a strong urge to give him jewelry, and that this was the best compromise he could think of. It had made Dustin's heart stutter a little, and he had kissed Steve as sweet as he could, until they were both flushed and panting, and Steve was making those whimpery noises that Dustin loves so much. When they'd stopped, Steve's pupils had been blown wide, his eyes so big and pretty that it made Dustin ache just looking at him.

When everyone had started arriving later, it had been a series of explanations, of them teasing Steve for breaking the no presents rule until Steve had looked so uncomfortable that it was an effort for Dustin to sound playful when he snapped at them to shut up. He knows that Steve likes giving him things, that he gets a lot more out of it than a person usually does, and Dustin really doesn't mind. He finds it endearing, and kind of hot at the same time, the way Steve gets that antsy, flustered look about him any time he gives Dustin something. He certainly doesn't want anyone making Steve feel uncomfortable about it, and almost wishes that he had asked for gifts after all, if it would've helped deflect the attention. It's a lost cause now, though, so Dustin just tries his best to run interference, and later, when everyone is settled, and they're in the kitchen getting snacks, he makes sure Steve knows that he appreciates it, tells him that he loves him, and he's happy, and he's going to wear it every day.

Steve ducks his head, letting his hair drop over his face, and Dustin suspects he's probably making an embarrassing happy face, so he pulls him a little closer by his shirt and asks if it's okay to hug him. Steve nods and has his face buried in Dustin's shoulder before Dustin can even get his arms around him. They stand like that for a long time, Dustin running his hands gently through Steve's hair as Steve breathes long and slow against his neck. Dustin is honestly surprised no one has come to bug them about the snacks, but he's glad for it. He knows that sometimes, Steve just needs to hide for a little while when his mind won't relax, and when Steve finally steps back, he looks at ease, smiling and composed, the way he deserves to feel.

It's a fun day, over all. They do a movie marathon, though it's mostly things they've all seen a hundred times, so they spend a good portion of the afternoon chatting, the volume on the TV turned down low. At one point, someone - Dustin doesn't remember who, too caught off guard by the entire conversation - starts teasing Will and Dustin about how they better both find boyfriends quick once they're at college, because otherwise everyone will worry about them, single and alone. Dustin is frozen, unable to even think of a reply, and he sees Steve's eyes go a little wide as well. Before he can say anything, though, Will just laughs and says, "What do you mean? Dustin and Steve are dating."

At which point, Dustin is stunned to complete inactivity as the rest of the room bursts into a chorus of disbelief and laughter. He doesn't know how long it goes on before he hears Steve's voice, quiet and a little broken sounding, asking, "You told him?"

Steve looks scared and uncomfortable again, and Dustin can't really blame him, because this wasn't something they had talked about, wasn't something Dustin had even gotten around to thinking about, wanting instead to make sure things between them were solid, and Steve was comfortable before letting the news out. "No, I swear," he says, and hopes he doesn't sound too much like he's about to burst into tears. "I wouldn't without asking."

At the very least, Steve believes him, because he reaches out for Dustin's hand, and both of their palms are sweaty, and Steve doesn't look any less terrified, but at least he knows Dustin didn't betray him like that.

He notices, then, that the room has gone quiet again, turns to see everyone is staring at them. The silence feels like a wall, closing in around them, and Dustin is finding it difficult to breathe, feels his heart beating a million miles per minute in his chest. He wonders if this is what Steve feels like when he has a panic attack, and the thought of it makes everything even worse. He recognizes that he's afraid, because it's one thing for them to accept, in the abstract, that Dustin wants to date guys, but it's another thing entirely for them to know that he's dating Steve, who is important to all of them, but is also a lot older than him. They don't know Steve the way he does, and he already has scenarios flashing through his mind at a staggering rate, showing him every possible way in which they could react poorly. He's breathing fast enough that the sharp, wheezy sound of it is audible, probably to everyone in the room. He thinks he might be about to break Steve's fingers from how hard he's squeezing. He thinks he might actually die if they say anything that will hurt Steve's feelings.

Will says, "Oh shit. I didn't know it was a secret. I thought you were being obvious on purpose."

He turns to look at Will, and can't even wade far enough out of the panic to be incredulous, even though he's pretty sure they haven't been _obvious_ about anything.

It's Lucas who finally replies, "I guess now that you point it out, it is kind of obvious."

And then everyone is chiming in with various remarks of agreement, and Dustin isn't really sure what's happening, except now Steve is pulling him closer, using Dustin's death grip on his hand as leverage so that he can murmur soothingly in his ear, "It's okay. Just breathe. It'll be alright."

It's Mike who says, "This is so weird," in a laughing, skeptical voice. The tone of it rankles Dustin, grounds him enough to make him scowl, ready to start a fight if he has to. But Mike just laughs, and holds his hands up in surrender. "Not complaining, man! Just can't believe we didn't realize earlier."

"You didn't realize, because it was a secret," Steve says, pointedly, but not unfriendly, thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of Dustin's hand.

"I'm sorry!" Will replies, scandalized. "I thought it was common knowledge!"

The conversation moves on from there, to everyone teasing Will about being a snitch, and Dustin is relieved, because it seems like no one really cares, and that's all he can ask for. He relaxes in increments after that, sitting closer to Steve, and keeping hold of his hand, because neither of them is quite calm enough to let go. It's nice, Dustin thinks, to hold Steve's hand like this, in front of everyone. Although, he's sure they'll be teased for it going forward, just like all the other couples. He thinks that everyone is probably leaving it be for now, because he and Steve are obviously both tense and uncomfortable, and because it's Dustin's birthday, and they're being magnanimous.

When it gets late enough that curfews are kicking in, and everyone starts filing out, Dustin is surprised that, along with the hugs and happy birthday wishes, all of them take the time to tell him, in their own way, that it's okay, and that it makes sense, and they're happy for him. Will, the last one to leave, apologizes again, looking genuinely full of remorse, and Dustin has to laugh, because even after all these years, those puppy dog eyes are killer. "It's okay, dude. I promise. Just try not to spill any more giant secret beans in the future."

Will nods, gives him a small grin in return, and replies, "Yeah, I'll check with you before saying shit from now on. Sorry."

After he's gone, things are quiet. Steve helps Dustin clean up, making sure everything is in order for when Dustin's mom comes home from her night out (she's gone to a show in the city, insisted that she thought Dustin deserved some alone time with his friends on his birthday, even though he would've been happy to have her there). By the time they're finished, it's late enough that Dustin really just wants to go to sleep. It was nice to have everyone gathered together, but the stress of it all has gotten to him a little.

Steve agrees, looking even worse than Dustin feels, face pale with dark circles under his eyes, as if the day has stripped him of a week's worth of energy. Dustin hates it; hates that he inadvertently put Steve in any sort of position to be more stressed than he needs to be. He just wants Steve to be happy, to have peace and quiet, and a life that he can enjoy without constantly having panic snapping at his heels, waiting for any opportunity to rush in and clamp teeth over his heart. He sighs, leaning against the bathroom doorway, watching Steve brush his teeth using Dustin's toothbrush, because, somehow, neither of them has remembered to buy him one to keep here. He thinks it probably says a lot about how far gone he is that he likes watching Steve use his and doesn't find it even remotely gross.

Steve smiles at him, mouth foamy, eyes sparkling and playful behind the exhaustion. Dustin looks on in amusement as a glob of toothpaste slides down Steve's hand and splats on the floor, at which point, Steve's eyes go wide and he leans back over the sink, cursing around his mouthful. Dustin laughs and wipes up the mess with some toilet paper while Steve cleans himself up, laughing as well.

When he's done, he pulls Dustin in for a kiss, says into his mouth, "Your real birthday present is that you got to watch me totally lose all my dignity just now."

Dustin grins, and replies, "It was a good gift. Hope it happens again," before kissing him for real. It's too minty, and Dustin misses the normal taste of Steve's mouth, but it's worth it anyways, because Steve sinks into him almost instantly, pressing up against him and opening his mouth lazily, hands curled loosely in Dustin's shirt.

Dustin kisses him like that, slow and easy, for several minutes, not pushing too hard, because he doesn't want to get too worked up, doesn't want to send Steve to bed hard and unable to do anything about it. He learned early that it doesn't take much at all to turn Steve on. He's sweet and easy, just needs to be touched in the right way, so that he feels safe, and he opens up, all clingy and overflowing with adorable, needy noises. Tonight, though, Dustin keeps his hands mostly to himself, lets Steve keep his knees closed, just pushes their tongues together sleepily, enjoying the feeling of Steve relaxing against him.

When they finally do wander out of the bathroom and back to Dustin's room, Steve hesitates in the doorway while Dustin rolls out the sleeping bag, and when Dustin looks back, he's hugging himself, looking a little nervous. "Steve?" he asks. "Are you okay? Was it too much in there?"

Steve smiles at him, still looking a little apprehensive. "No," he says. "I was just thinking." He's quiet for long enough that Dustin is considering asking him what about, but just as he opens his mouth to say something, Steve continues in a rush, "Do you want to share the bed?"

Dustin is a little flabbergasted, can feel his mouth hanging open as his mind processes. They don't share the bed, because Steve already has enough trouble falling asleep just having another person in the room. Even after all these years, he still sometimes spends his nights staring wide eyed at the walls, unable to fall asleep, overcome with anxiety and memories. Worse, sometimes he does fall asleep, but he comes awake screaming at the smallest noise, terrified and lost in the sound of a gunshot that's been torturing him for three years. Dustin knows what Steve is offering, knows how hard it probably is for him to even consider, and it sort of makes him want to cry, because Steve is offering it to _him_. Steve trusts him enough to risk the kind of harrowing mind torture that Dustin wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, just to share a space with him.

Dustin's voice is raspy and quiet when he replies, "Yeah, of course. If you're sure."

Steve nods, and comes into the room slowly, stopping just in front of Dustin, arms still wrapped around himself. "I don't know if it'll work," he says, slowly, obviously being careful with his words. "But I want to. I just want to sleep next to you."

He sounds so sad that Dustin thinks he really might burst into tears on the spot, has to swallow hard around a lump in his throat several times before he can answer, "Okay. We'll try." He reaches out, puts a hand over Steve's, where he's grasping tightly at his own bicep. "It's okay if it doesn't work, so don't worry about it. If it doesn't work tonight, we can try again another time." He steps in close, and Steve leans in just enough to push their foreheads together, nuzzling Dustin gently.

"I love you," he says, agonized, the way he often does when he's struggling to articulate everything he wants to say.

It's enough, Dustin thinks. "I love you, too."

The bed is small, only a twin, and it forces them snuggle in order to find any sort of comfortable position. At first, Dustin worries that it might make things worse, but Steve seems to relax immediately once Dustin is spooned up against his back, an arm slung over his waist. "I think it's better if I can feel you there," he says, muffled by the pillow, and Dustin is relieved.

Dustin tucks his knees behind Steve's and is utterly thrilled at how well they fit together. He presses his smile into the back of Steve's neck, kisses his nape. "I will literally stay here until the apocalypse comes if you like it," he says, and means it more than he probably should.

He can feel Steve's laugh in his own chest, relishes the deep vibration of it as Steve laces their fingers together and squeezes his hand. "Just, if you wake up and want to go anywhere...wake me up first. I think if you wake me up first before you get up, it'll be okay. I hope." He sounds shaky but hopeful, and it makes Dustin's heart ache for him.

"Okay," he agrees, easily. "If you decide it's too much, just tell me, okay?"

Steve nods and makes a tired little sound of agreement that makes Dustin's heart well up like he's looking at a kitten or something.

They chat idly for a while after that, to fill the silence as they wind down, to keep Steve out of his head as he lulls into pre-sleep mode. It's nice in a way that Dustin hadn't ever really considered before. It's warm in a cozy, comfortable sort of way, and Dustin finds that being able to feel the rhythm of Steve's heart beating against his own chest and under his hand is soothing. He thinks, if he could fall asleep this way every day forever, he would like that a lot, and then realizes he probably said that out loud, because Steve presses back into him even more and says, "Me too."

Steve isn't asleep yet by the time Dustin dozes off, but his body is loose, and his heart is steady and slow enough to lull Dustin under against his will.

When he wakes up in the morning, Steve is already awake, turned over facing Dustin, and he's smiling soft and tired, looking at Dustin like he's a wonder. Dustin smiles back, muzzy and sleep addled, happy to realize that they're both still in the bed, and that Steve doesn't look miserable. "Did you sleep?" he asks, voice cracking on the remnants of sleep.

"Yeah," Steve replies, similarly raspy. "Took a while, but it was good."

Dustin feels himself grinning, unable to control it, and is overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Steve's unbearably pretty morning face. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and is more than a little pleased when Steve says yes.

 


	8. Chapter 08

After Dustin's birthday, Steve feels like things start moving at warp speed. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, the kids are graduating, and he's sitting in the crowd with Claudia, cheering them all on, thinking about how much shit has gone down since he watched them all march across the stage at the end of middle school. There's another gathering afterwards, and this time, the kids, who aren't even kids anymore, mingle with the other adults, chatting animatedly about their plans for the summer, and their futures. Steve watches them, and feels a little empty, even though he's proud of them, happy that, after everything they all went through, they're here, going forward, a little damaged, but mostly fine.

He realizes that, with them leaving, he won't really have anyone around that he could even tentatively call a friend. It stings. He hasn't had friends his own age since everything that went down with Nancy, had kept to himself, trying to deal with Billy, and then the aftermath of Billy, spending his time with Dustin and Claudia, and never felt a need to make other friends, never felt like other people would understand what was going on with him enough to become his friend anyways. Now, though, he wonders how he's going to cope with Dustin gone, wonders if he really will be alright starting a new job in three months, wonders how he'll cope without the ability to reach Dustin at the drop of a hat. He knows he'll still have Claudia, that she'll take him in and offer him support and company if he ever needs it, but she can't give him what Dustin does, and the thought of it is terrifying.

He tries to put on a brave face as the summer goes on, ignoring the way everything in him is screaming that nothing will be alright once Dustin is gone and Steve is left to his own devices. He knows there's nothing to be done for it, and would sooner die than let his own anxiety get in the way of Dustin having the education he wants and deserves. Dustin is nervous, too, which makes it easier for Steve to clamp down on his own panic, preferring to try to offer comfort where he can, to take care of Dustin however possible while he has the chance. They talk about it a lot, reassuring each other that, even if it seems like a nightmare, everything will be fine. Dustin will have a single room with a phone line, and they'll be able to talk to each other every night, for as long as they want, without bothering anyone. Steve will visit him on the weekends when there aren't any games for him to coach, and in the scheme of things, four years isn't all that much, if they plan to spend their entire lives together.

It's exciting as well, to think about Dustin going off to a fancy school, where they can match his ceaseless curiosity, can challenge him in ways that podunk high school classrooms can't. He'll have access to huge libraries, and state of the art science and computer labs. It's basically everything Dustin could ever hope for, and Steve is happy for him, despite his own overwhelming dread.

He's excited for himself, too. Excited for the start of his career, excited to work with kids and teach them how to live healthy lives, and how to take care of themselves and have fun doing it. Excited to hopefully break a lot of those gym class stereotypes that make some kids hate it so much. He'd genuinely enjoyed every moment of shadowing classes the last several months of the school year, and it had made him even more confident that he'd made the right decision in abandoning his father's plans.

Still, when the time comes for Claudia and Steve to leave after taking Dustin and his things to school, helping him set up his dorm room, and buying him all the supplies he couldn't bring with him, Steve's shaking. Claudia has already said her goodbyes, had given Dustin a long and tearful hug, and then turned to Steve and told him to take his time, that she would wait for him outside.

After she's out of sight, Dustin takes Steve's trembling hands in his own, and Steve realizes that his eyes are already welling up, which sucks, because he had totally promised himself he wasn't going to cry, because Dustin deserved for him to be happy, and supportive, and optimistic, and all that jazz. Dustin just smiles at him, though, all warm and encouraging, the same smile that is probably largely responsible for Steve falling in love with him, and says, "It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna call you every night, and I'll see you in two weeks. You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna be okay."

Steve nods, because he knows it's true, but he can already feel himself missing Dustin and he's not even gone yet. He tries for a smile, but is pretty sure it's a fail. "I know," he says anyways. "You're gonna do so awesome."

"Yeah, well so are you. Those kids don't know how lucky they are." Dustin laughs, and it sounds a little watery, which makes Steve feel better about his own tears. "I'll miss you," he says, and leans in to rest his forehead against Steve's.

Steve hears himself make an undignified, whimpering sort of noise in his throat, and realizes that he's going to start crying for real and there's nothing he can do about it. "I'll miss you, too," he sputters, and is in marginal disbelief that he's actually doing this right now. Even Claudia had managed to keep her tears dignified and quiet, but here he is, blubbering like an idiot. "It'll be fine, though," he says, barely comprehensible because of the crying, trying to convince himself more than anything, to make himself calm the fuck down.

Dustin's hands are on his face, catching Steve's tears on his fingers as he wipes them away. He's mumbling a stream of comforting nonsense, and has started crying a little bit himself, face a little splotchy, but still so handsome it makes Steve's heart stutter. He brings his hands to Dustin's face, and thinks they must make quite a picture, standing there, foreheads pressed together, holding each others faces and crying like a couple of idiots. He thinks he doesn't really care what kind of picture they make, because all he wants to do is kiss Dustin, to keep hold of him and protect him and make him happy. All he wants is to make Dustin _happy_.

The thought calms him. He feels his chest loosen up, and even though the tears are still coming, it's easier to breathe now; easier to lean in a kiss Dustin, soft and chaste; easier to whisper, "I love you," into his mouth, and then kiss him again, over and over until Dustin is kissing him back, crowding him up against the bureau and pressing their bodies together, pushing his tongue into Steve's mouth, gentle and coaxing, just the way Steve likes it.

It's a little overwhelming, and Steve can't even try to keep his noises in check, because this is the last time he's going to get this for at least a little while, and knowing that is making him desperate for it. Dustin is moaning into his mouth, too, taking Steve's noises and feeding them back to him like it's their only way to survive, and Steve's whole body feels hot and jittery, and he _wants_ so bad he thinks he could probably get off right now if he tried.

He hears himself make a strangled, broken sound at the thought, knots his hands in the fabric of Dustin's shirt in an effort to keep from pulling him closer. Dustin catches on, because he is somehow always able to read Steve, and slows down, pulling back bit by bit until they're just standing there breathing each other's air again. "Sorry," he pants, breath hot on Steve's oversensitive lips.

"No," Steve says, and it sounds more like a whine than actual speech. He swallows hard and tries again, "No, s'okay." He kisses Dustin again, because he can't help it, quick and open, but not enough to drop them back into it. He meets Dustin's eyes, still glassy, but no longer actively shedding tears, and smiles ruefully. "I'm just really keyed up."

Dustin grins at him, thumbs rubbing lightly at Steve's cheeks, affectionate and sweet. Then he says, amused and confessionary, "Honestly, I'm probably going to cry and jerk off once you leave."

It catches Steve off guard, sends even more want zinging through his body and tears a strange mix of a laugh and a moan out of him before he can stop it. "Fuck," is all he can think to say. Then, "You know I have to drive two and a half hours home with your mom right?"

Dustin laughs for real then, dropping his face onto Steve's shoulder as he's racked with cute little guffaws that make Steve's insides go all mushy and warm.

"I love you," Dustin says into Steve's neck, still hiccuping around his giggles, and Steve can't help smiling.

"I love you, too." He puts a hand on the nape of Dustin's neck, petting him lightly, enjoying the feeling of having him close like this. He's still hard, but it feels a lot less desperate than it did a minute ago. He nuzzles into Dustin's hair, always fond of how he smells, and breathes deep, pressing a kiss there as Dustin calms down a little. When they've both been still for a few minutes, he says reluctantly, "I should go, I guess."

He feels Dustin nod against his shoulder before he stands back and looks at Steve again. "Call me when you get home, okay? My phone is already set up. You have the number."

"Yeah, as soon as I get home."

Dustin nods again. "And then every night until I see you again, okay?"

Steve smiles, feels so fond he can hardly contain it. "Yeah. Every night. Promise."

"Okay," Dustin says, and sounds a little shaky. "Okay. It's going to be okay."

"It is," Steve says, and sounds more confident about it than he has in weeks. "You're going to have an amazing time, okay? This place is made for you."

Dustin nods, and abruptly hugs Steve again, mumbling into his neck, "I'll miss you so fucking much, so don't forget to call me, okay?"

Steve hugs him back, just as fiercely. "Man, I'm literally going to be spending all day wishing I could call you already, so don't worry about it."

It takes them about seven more goodbyes before Steve actually manages to force himself to open the door, and then another hug and three more ' _I love you'_ s before he's able to force himself to walk down the hall towards the elevators. He looks back twice, and both times Dustin is still standing there in his doorway. Both times they wave at each other, and Steve thinks this is probably the most ridiculous thing he's ever done, outside of, like, beating up literal hounds of hell with a baseball bat, but he doesn't even care.

When he finally does make it to the car, Claudia gives him a big hug, and says in a tear stained voice, "He's going to do just fine."

Steve smiles at her, bright and genuine, and says with absolute confidence, "He's going to do _great_."

 


	9. Chapter 09

When Saturday rolls around, Steve is fidgety and impatient all day. He's spoken to Dustin every night this week, just like they promised, and it hasn't been as bad as Steve thinks it could be. He still misses Dustin's presence in his life like an amputated limb; still constantly wants to go to Dustin instinctively, about anything, and everything, and nothing at all, and it's been hard only speaking to him during an allotted time slot. Things have been amazing at school, though, as he's getting to know the kids, taking every chance he can to make them all feel welcome, to make them feel like gym class can be fun for everyone, not just the athletic kids. It's been crazy, and exhausting, and exhilarating, and he still can't quite believe he's doing it. The excitement of it all has been enough to distract him from the pain of missing Dustin, even if it hasn't been enough to eliminate it entirely.

It also helps that Dustin has had nothing but positive things to report to Steve. His class load is massive, and he's already applied for a work study job at the library. He's joined a DnD club, and a club that Steve could only gather was for computer nerds, and apparently there is a lot of crossover between the two. It makes it easier for Steve, when he talks to Dustin and hears how happy he is, how much opportunity he's being given to _be himself_ and be praised for it. It's an easy reminder of why all the missing him is worth it, even if Steve has had to learn to multi-task inside his own head, because he now has a constant train of thought dedicated solely to the thought of touching Dustin again.

So, Saturday morning comes, and Steve automatically wakes up early, already on a natural sleep schedule from less than a week of work, and his mind is a mess. He has nothing to do today, no distractions, no obligations, and he won't be able to talk to Dustin until much later tonight, as he's spending the day in the computer lab, doing...something that Steve can never hope to understand, but which has him very excited, and is going to call Steve when he's finished and back in his dorm for the evening. It's sort of unbearable, trying to function in any way while his mind is hyper focused on nothing but Dustin. He tries to think of something to do, that will distract him, but anything out of the house fills him with ridiculous anxiety over the possibility of missing Dustin's call, and anything inside the house isn't _enough_.

He ends up cleaning everything, top to bottom, and it takes twice as long as it should, because he's constantly distracted imagining what it will be like when he can finally see Dustin in person again. It makes him hot and jittery, makes him feel too sensitive to every source of stimuli, so he's nauseated by the smell of the cleaning supplies, overwhelmed by the sound of the vacuum, aching from kneeling on hard tiles. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, spends about an hour midday having a solid freak out, hoping desperately that this will get better with time, because if it's going to be like this every day that he doesn't have work and isn't seeing Dustin, the next four years are going to be a nightmare.

By the time dinner rolls around, Steve is feeling too nauseated to eat anything more than a bowl of cereal, and he thinks if Claudia ever found out she'd probably smack him with a spoon or something. He takes a shower after that, stands under the warm spray of the water for significantly longer than normal, trying to let it relax him, trying let go of the tension in his body, the fidgety, overwarm feeling, the impatience and obsessive thoughts about how much he just wants to hear Dustin's voice. It doesn't work, and by the time he decides to give it up and dry off, the feel of the towel against his skin is like sandpaper, and the lights are so bright he has to turn all but a single lamp off and lie down to ward off a headache.

When the phone finally does ring, it startles him enough that he almost drops it trying to get it to his ear, but as soon as he hears Dustin's cheerful, "Steve, hi!", his entire body relaxes, and the world re-calibrates itself back to normality.

"Hey Dusty," he says, quiet and a tired sounding.

Before he can say anything else, Dustin is asking in a soft, concerned voice, "Are you okay? You sound tired."

"Yeah," Steve replies, trying to sound a little more lively. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a weird day."

There's a short pause, and then Dustin asks, "Are you sure? God I wish I could see your face to tell if you're lying."

Steve laughs at that, delighted at the thought of Dustin knowing him well enough to call him out like this. "I promise. I've just been feeling kind of weird, but I'm okay. What about you? Did you have fun doing the stuff at the computer lab?"

"Steve, it was amazing," Dustin says, deadly serious and full of joy all at once. And then he's off on a rant that, if Steve's being honest, he really can't keep up with. He's describing the computers in deep, technical detail, telling Steve all the specs, and the programs they have, and all the things he could do with them. He sounds happy and enthusiastic, like he's just had the best day of his life, and it makes everything in Steve's body feel right just listening to him. He feels warm, and comfortable, and safe under the wash of Dustin's voice, and he tries to make interested noises at all the right places, so that Dustin won't stop talking, but isn't sure he's really managing it.

He's so focused on the sound, and the tone, and imagining Dustin's face, lit up with a smile, his hands gesticulating wildly as he talks, that he misses most of the actual words. He doesn't realize until he's already been doing it for several minutes that he's rubbing his legs together, distractedly imagining the feel of Dustin's knee shoved between his thighs, thinking about Dustin's mouth, still talking, but close to his ear, so that Steve could feel his breath, or his lips might brush against Steve's skin. He hears himself let out a quiet little whine, and then cringes when Dustin stops talking immediately, presumably mid-sentence to say, "Steve?"

Steve tries to take a deep breath and keep his voice steady, but all he can manage is a whimper, and low, drawn out, "Dusty."

Dustin sounds awestruck and gleeful when he says, "Oh my god, are you turned on right now? Did I turn you on talking about computers?"

Steve huffs out a laugh, realizes that, yes, he is extremely turned on right now; is, in fact, already almost completely hard in his shorts. "Your voice," he says, still sounding whiny and desperate. "I missed your voice."

" _Steve_ ," Dustin says, voice suddenly an octave lower than it had been. It makes Steve moan, and he's so turned on he can't even find the strength to be embarrassed by it. There's another beat of silence, and then Dustin says very carefully, "Do you want to touch yourself while I talk to you?"

It puts Steve's heart in his throat, because he hasn't touched himself in years, hasn't ever been able to bring himself to do it, too afraid of what images his brain might give him, but now he _wants_ it. He wants it so bad he can barely string together the presence of mind to actually answer and ends up only making a half garbled sound of agreement. He knows that won't be enough, though, that Dustin won't do anything with out a verbal confirmation, so he gathers up all the scraps of his thoughts and manages to put them together into an emphatic, " _Please_."

"Okay," Dustin says, shaken. "What do you want me to talk about?" He sounds gentle and encouraging, like he doesn't want to distract Steve by asking, but needs to anyways, and it makes Steve's whole body clench up in arousal.

"Anything," he says, trying so hard to be coherent. "Anything you want. I just want to hear your voice."

"Okay," Dustin says again, and Steve can hear him release a slow, shuddering breath. "Sometimes after we talk,” he starts, slow and composed. “Even if all you did was tell me about your day, I'm so turned on that I can't even do anything else until I jerk off." He says the last part in a rush, like he thinks maybe this isn't what Steve had in mind. He's right, but only because Steve sort of expected him to talk about mundane things, and now he's curling in on himself, groaning into his pillow and pushing the heel of his hand against the base of his dick, caught off guard by the image of Dustin masturbating, of him being turned on just from talking to Steve. He hears Dustin exhale shakily on the other end.

"Tell me what you think about?" he asks, timid, because he's not sure if it's crossing a line, even though Dustin had volunteered the information.

Dustin is quiet for a moment, and then starts again, deliberately casual, "I think about the way you look when I kiss you, how your eyes go all dark and wide, and your face gets all flushed, and your mouth is so red even after just a few kisses. I think about how much you like it when you have me between your thighs, and how pretty the outline of your cock is when it's hard in your jeans."

Steve moans, pressing his thighs together reflexively at the image, trying to gather the courage to actually wrap his fingers around his erection, but not quite able to manage it. "Dusty, I..." He trails off into a frustrated noise, unable to even get the words out, and almost feels like crying in frustration.

He hears Dustin shushing him gently, the way he always does when Steve is stressed. "It's okay. What's wrong, do you want to stop?"

Steve very much does _not_ want to stop, but he's also not sure how to continue, not quite able to convince his hand to do the work. "No, but I can't. I haven't in a long time, and I can't."

He's relieved when Dustin doesn't ask him to say more, just clarifies for himself, "You don't want to stop, but touching yourself is too much?"

"Yes," Steve gasps, overwhelmed already, and desperately wishing Dustin were here, touching him instead. He thinks, if Dustin were here, he'd feel safer, knows that Dustin would take care of him.

"Alright, sweetheart." The endearment makes Steve clench all over again. Dustin's never called him anything but his name, and the soft, coaxing tone of his voice makes Steve want to crawl into his lap and rock against him until they both come. "Do you have an extra pillow?"

Steve nods, then remembers that they're on the phone and gives a shaky, "Yeah."

He hears Dustin sigh in relief before he continues, "Okay, I want you to put the pillow between your legs, alright? Just lie on your side and hug onto it with your thighs, and let yourself..." he pauses for a second, clearing his throat. "Let yourself rut on it, okay?"

Steve is shaking as he does as he's told, and even the feeling of something between his thighs is a relief. He's still wearing his underwear, but he thinks, for now, it will be okay to leave them on. He flexes his hips experimentally, and there's just enough friction to rip a moan out of him.

He hears Dustin give a muffled, "Jesus fuck," before he continues at normal volume, "That's good. Do you think that will work? If I keep talking to you?"

Steve releases a long, shaking breath, tries again, bracing the pillow against his arm, and is filled with a sort of existential relief when he realizes how good it feels. "Yeah," he says, "I think so."

"Okay, that's good. You're doing so good, Steve. You have no idea how good you sound right now. Do you know how much noise you make when you're turned on? It's incredible. I love the way even the littlest things can make you moan, and how you sound like you really can't help it. Fuck, you're so needy, babe. It turns me on so much."

Steve can't really form much of a response, too busy being unable to stop the steady stream of whimpers and moans coming out of him. Still, he wants to encourage Dustin, because he knows this is probably scary and new for him, that he's never been with someone like this before, even if it's only over the phone. "S'good Dusty," is what he manages before devolving into another sharp whine. When he has his breath back again, he tries for something a little better. "You make me feel good, always."

It comes out slurred, the words stumbling over each other as he pants around them, but he thinks Dustin gets the point, because Steve hears him moan a little bit, and curse again under his breath, and then he says, "Fuck, is it okay if I touch myself?" and he sounds more than a little desperate.

Steve doesn't hesitate. "Yes, please."

There's a moment of quiet, and if he listens hard enough, he thinks he can hear the rustle of clothing on the other end of the line. It makes his heart beat even faster, makes it harder to breathe because there's so much heat dropping in his belly. He has to close his eyes, just to give his brain one less thing to process while he imagines Dustin, hard and wanting. He's never seen Dustin's dick before, and he thinks it probably wouldn't be fair to ask him to describe it, but he knows without a doubt that it's beautiful.

He has seen Dustin's face when he's turned on, when he's hard in his jeans and doing everything he can not to cross any lines. He can easily visualize the sharp furrow in his brow, the way he bites his lower lip, a sharp canine snagged on the skin. He thinks Dustin is probably totally flushed, too, his olive skin dusted dark red around his cheeks and down his neck. It makes his cock twitch thinking about it, and he pushes his hips reflexively into the pillow to try and relieve some pressure.

In the meantime, Dustin resumes talking, breath coming much harsher now, words dropping in a cadence that Steve can only assume matches the rhythm of how he's touching himself. "Sometimes I think about the things that I hope we can do someday. The ways that I could make you feel good, when you're ready. Fuck, Steve, I want to make you feel so good. I want to fucking bury my face between your thighs and suck you off and eat you out until you come just from that. I want you to fuck me so bad sometimes thinking about it is all it takes for me to come. I don't want to do anything you don't want to, but sometimes I just think about how much I want to help you get to a place where you can just feel good. God that's stupid, but I think about it so much."

Steve is sobbing a little bit now, face pressed into the pillow, phone balanced precariously by his shoulder. "It's not stupid," he mumbles, voice cracking repeatedly. "Fuck I want you so bad, Dusty. I think about it all the time. You're so good to me, you make me want it again."

"Fuck, Jesus Fucking Fuck, Steve, I'm already really close. Fuck, I fucking love you."

Steve realizes, as Dustin says it, that he's close, too. It's been so long that it's hard to recognize the feeling, but he feels like he's teetering on the edge, his balls drawn up tight, his body fighting hard to push him over. It's good, better than he ever could've imagined, and Dustin isn't even here. It's a fucking travesty that he's not even here, that Steve can't see him with his dick in his hand, face all pretty and twisted. "Fuck," he slurs out. "Fuck, I want to listen to you come. Please."

It's like that's all Dustin needed, because almost instantly he moans, long and deep, Steve's name lost somewhere in the sound, followed by a long and breathless string of, "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."

Steve listens, rapt, feels like his entire body is tuned in to Dustin's voice, held tight and desperately on edge, waiting for him to move just a little and push himself over as well. He thinks he's panting and maybe crying a little bit, definitely he's whimpering, and after a quick moment where he can hear Dustin breathing hard, Dustin focuses back on him and says, "Come on sweetheart. Just a little more, yeah?"

Steve hears himself moan in response, is tense like he hasn't ever been in his life, his whole body straining for a release he can't quite reach. "Dusty," he says, and it's more of a cry for help.

"It's okay," Dustin says, soothingly. "Don't panic, it'll happen. Just breathe, let yourself relax a little. God I bet you have the prettiest cock, Steve. I love how if you stand just right, sometimes I can see it sitting all fat and pretty in your jeans, even when you're not hard. Sometimes, I just want to push you up against a wall and put my mouth there, feel you getting hard against my tongue, through all that fabric, listen to the way you'd whimper and moan. God I wouldn't do it without asking, but sometimes it's all I can think about."

Steve imagines it, Dustin on his knees, hands pinning his hips to the wall, gentle but strong enough to keep him from moving, his mouth open against Steve's crotch, pressing at him with his tongue, warm through the fabric. He knows Dustin would take care of him, would stop if he wanted to, would get him off if he needed it, in the sweetest way he could. He can hear himself gasp, sharp and loud, echoing a bit in the quiet room. "Dusty, m'close."

Dustin's voice is gentle, soothing, and full of affection. "That's good. You're so good, Steve. You're doing such a good job, and you sound so good. I wish I was there to take care of you, but you're doing such a good job. Fuck, I love you. I love you, and I want you to come for me, okay?"

It's enough, and Steve feels his whole body go tight, his vision whiting out a little as the orgasm tears through him. He thinks he might be screaming a little, or at least howling wordlessly into his pillow as his cock twitches and spills, over and over. Dustin talks him through it, low and quiet, just enough to soothe the sharp edge of it, to make it good despite Steve's desperation overwhelming him. "That's it, sweetheart. God you did so good, you deserve it. Just take it nice and easy. Let it come. You're doing so good."

It takes Steve a long time to come down, and he realizes that he's fully crying now, though he's not sure why. He's panting hard, can't find a good rhythm because his breath keeps hitching from the tears. He's happy, though; feels like he's surrounded in a kind of warm, buzzing glow, and he thinks he remembers this feeling, from before. He laughs a little, because the term "afterglow" seems so appropriate. When he finally does catch his breath, he adjusts the phone on his shoulder, and says, somewhat awestruck, and still sniffling a little, "Holy shit."

Dustin laughs breathily, and sounds relieved when he asks, "You're okay?"

"Yeah," Steve says, and can't think of much more to say. "Wow. Yeah."

"I just want you to know," Dustin replies, sounding extremely fond, "That it's really cute that you can't even talk right now."

Steve laughs again, weak and happy, trying to string some words together to prove Dustin wrong, but accepts his defeat with out much fuss. "Yeah," he says again, not even able to muster a sardonic tone.

Dustin gives him a long time to bask, staying on the line and just breathing with him as he comes down, the sound of it comforting in a way not much else can be to Steve.

"I love you," Steve says, quiet and a little intense, once he's scraped up enough scraps of his mind to make sentences. "Thank you."

"I love you, too," Dustin replies, equally serious. "I want to make you feel good however I can."

Steve giggles, giddy and feeling floaty. "Well fucking A plus. Good job. You fucking passed with flying colors."

Dustin laughs, and the conversation devolves from there, to teasing and then on to Dustin walking Steve through cleaning himself up, because he's just a bit too far in the clouds to manage it without guidance. When they finally do hang up, Steve is able to drop into sleep almost immediately, feeling safe and comfortable, anxiety and fear forgotten, at least for one night. It's the best sleep he's had in years.

 


	10. Chapter 10

When Dustin wakes up around midday on Sunday, his first instinct is to pick up the phone and call Steve. He had sounded alright when they'd hung up the night before, happy and and a little bit high, still not quite stringing thoughts together the way Dustin would've liked. Dustin slept well, but upon waking up, he's immediately worried that Steve might have had a spiral, lost in a panic attack, too shaken to call Dustin. He resists the urge to call and check on him for about five minutes before he launches out of bed and says, "Fuck it," to no one in particular.

Steve picks up on the second ring, sounding cheerful and well rested. "Hi, Steve speaking.”

Dustin feels himself relax a little bit, just from the tone. He doesn't _sound_ like he's having a crisis, but Dustin's still gonna fucking check, because it was all pretty sudden, and he said a lot of intense shit, and he has to be sure or he's not gonna make it through the week. "Hey, it's me."

"Dusty, hey!" Steve sounds delighted, and Dustin can feel himself smiling reflexively, imagining the way Steve's face has probably gone from passive and slightly distracted to being all lit up, lips turned just slightly in a smile that's mostly telegraphed through his big, pretty eyes. "What's up? Are you okay?"

Dustin swallows hard, trying not to dread the conversation too much, and says in a tone that's so normal he's almost proud, "Yeah, I just wanted to check in on you. I know last night was probably a lot."

He hears Steve make a quiet, surprised sort of noise, and then he says quickly, "Yeah, it was, but it was good. I think..." he pauses for a second, and Dustin gives him time to think. "I think I really needed it," he continues. "I haven't slept that well in _years,_ man."

Dustin smiles again, small and private, feels proud that he could help Steve in any way at all. "Good," he says, and if anyone were around to hear, he might be embarrassed by how fond he sounds. "I was just worried that I might've pushed too far, saying the, uh, stuff I said."

Steve sounds very soft and serious when he replies, "No, I liked it. You did so good, Dusty. Are you okay?"

He thinks he might be blushing, just from talking about it at all, but he's also so happy it feels like he might explode at any moment. "Yeah," he says, sounding as pleased as he feels. "Yeah, I'm glad you liked it. I liked it, too."

"I, um," Steve starts, sounding painfully shy. "I think I really liked it when you called me stuff. Like, not my name, or whatever."

Dustin feels like he's just been given some sort of divine gift, feels his heart racing and can't control his smile. "Really?" he asks, and it comes out sounding a little awed, and a little disbelieving.

"Yeah," Steve says, slightly more confident. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to do it more, in whatever context."

"Um, that's cool, because I actually think about it all the time and didn't want to make you uncomfortable." Steve makes another surprised kind of noise, and it sounds like an excited little _oh_ might be lost in there somewhere. "Because," Dustin continues, "You're really special, and I just...want to call you things so you know you're special."

"Dusty..." Steve says, and sounds pleased in a way that makes Dustin wish he were there to kiss him right on the soft, shy little smile he's definitely making.

There's a moment of easy quiet, while Dustin basks in Steve's happiness, and Steve presumably does something similar, and then Dustin clears his throat and says, a little less confident, "Um, if you ever need to do something like that again, just tell me okay? I don't want you to go, um...unsatisfied, I guess? I want you to ask me if you need it, okay?"

"Okay, yeah." Steve sounds raspy, voice a little deeper. "Uh, I don't know when that will be, but I'll try to tell you."

Dustin wishes he could hold Steve's hand right now, can hear, even through the phone, the vulnerable lilt in his tone, because he's never totally sure about these things, needs time to get to know himself again, without anyone putting pressure on him. "That's okay. I just want you to know you can ask. You're allowed to ask, and if you need something, I want you to tell me." He sighs, not really wanting to say the next part, but feeling like maybe he has to. "I don't want you to ever feel like it's pressuring me just to ask, and I don't want you to think that if I ask for something, you can't so no, okay?"

There's another long pause before Steve answers, but Dustin knows these conversations are hard for him, thinks it's probably even more difficult when he can't reach out for comfort, or even see Dustin's face to read his expression. "Okay," he finally replies, slowly. "You know it's the same for you, right? I know I come off, um..." he coughs, sounding strangled. " _Needy_ ," he continues, sounding a little embarrassed, and a little sardonic, reminding Dustin that he'd called Steve that the night before, making him blush as Steve goes on. "But you can always say no if you're not comfortable. There's always other options, even if I don't know what they are." He hears a hitch in Steve's breath, and thinks he might be getting worked up, thinking about all of this. "I don't ever want to make you do something you don't want to, okay?"

"Steve, you never would," he says, as quickly as he can get it out. He hates to have had to put Steve's mind back on things that already torment him often enough, but he knows it's important to say these things now, before anything else happens. "I know this is all really hard for you, but you're so sweet and good, and I know you would never take anything from me that I didn't want to give you, okay? I trust you."

"I trust you, too." Steve's voice cracks, and Dustin is almost certain he's crying now, or close to it, which sucks.

"Steve," he says, as softly as he can. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could hug you."

Steve sniffles a little bit. "It's okay. I'm okay, I promise. It's just a lot. I'm glad you brought it up." He takes a deep, hitching breath that's loud enough for Dustin to hear. "It's good. I'm happy about what happened, but I think it probably would've gotten to me eventually if we didn't talk about it." He makes a noise that sounds almost like a huff of laughter and says, "Jesus, why are you so good at this? I should be the one that's good at this."

Dustin scoffs. "Listen," he says, half serious, half in good humor. "I am very emotionally intelligent, just ask my friends." Steve laughs a little, and makes a sound of agreement. "Besides," Dustin continues, more solemn. "You've been through a fuckin' load of shit. It's okay that you don't have it all worked out. It's okay if you _never_ have it all worked out. I don't give a shit if you change your mind about everything every day. I just want you to be happy, okay?"

"Okay," Steve says, sounding choked up. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He says, and wishes for the millionth time that he could just _touch_ Steve; hug him, or hold his hand, or anything to give him the comfort he needs. Instead, he does his best to comfort him over the phone, telling him sweet things, until he starts sounding embarrassed and shy instead of sad and overwhelmed. He steers the conversation to lighter topics, asks Steve to describe what he has planned for classes this week, explains his own schedule for the week, and how much he's looking forward to seeing Steve next weekend. It's nice, and so easy, the way it always is between them when it's just conversation, and by the time they hang up, Dustin feels like his whole day is going to be great, just from having spent an hour talking to Steve.

The week flies by after that, in such a blur that, looking back on it, Dustin can't really determine anything that's happened, and is somewhat shocked that he managed to do everything he was meant to do without even realizing it. On Friday night, he's fidgety, and anxious, unable to quell his impatience as he paces his room, waiting for Steve to arrive. It's a long drive, even without Friday afternoon traffic, and Dustin is sure it will take Steve at least 3 hours to get here, since he couldn't leave until six due to after school shit. Still, he's excited; feels like he hasn't seen Steve in _years_ , even if it's only been two weeks, and his skin is itchy and tingly all at once, craving the ability to just touch Steve, even for a moment.

It's 9:30 by the time there is a knock on his door, and Dustin has been sitting in his desk chair staring at it like it killed his mother for over an hour, unable to do anything else in the face of _waiting_. He's out of the chair so fast it almost tips over, and he very nearly trips reaching out to tear his door open. He doesn't even care that there are other people in the common room, probably staring as Steve basically collapses into him as soon as the door is open. He just pulls Steve a little further into the room as he tries to bury his face in Dustin's neck and slams the door shut behind him.

Steve is hugging him intensely, arms tight around his middle, lips so close to his neck that it feels like kisses as he says, "Fuck, I missed you," over and over again.

Dustin sort of wants to laugh and cry at the same time, because Steve smells so good he thinks he might actually die. It's a bare hint of honey from his shampoo, and then sweat, so strong from a day exercising with kids and a 3 hour car ride immediately after that Dustin thinks he should probably find it gross, but instead it just makes heat roll low in his belly as he tries to breathe deeper, just to get more. It makes his stomach clench up, his body going hot all over as he hugs Steve back, buries a hand in the hair at his nape, cradling Steve's head and trying not to shudder at the feel of his mouth pressed right up against Dustin's neck, warm and wet, a day of stubble scraping lightly at his skin.

He presses a sloppy kiss into Steve's temple, not really at a good angle for it, but wanting to do it anyways, and says, "I missed you, too," quiet, and frankly, more than a little wrecked.

Steve pulls back a bit, then, eyes dragging up, snagging helplessly at Dustin's mouth, and he whines, high pitched but low in his throat, and brings his hands around to sit on Dustin's chest, fingers just brushing the skin above his collar. Dustin feels his dick jump in response, almost pavlovian in its interest when Steve makes noises like that. After another beat, Steve finally manages to finish looking up and meet Dustin's eyes as he says, "Can we please kiss now?"

Dustin doesn't waste any time actually answering, choosing instead to just cup Steve's face in his hands and press their mouths together as gently as he can manage when he's this fucking desperate. Steve's mouth is unbelievably soft, and he opens up before Dustin even tries anything, flicking his tongue just slightly against Dustin's lips, but waiting for Dustin to come to him.

It's not dignified, he can admit, but Dustin moans like he's fucking coming and gives Steve what he wants. He tastes good enough that Dustin actually has to press him back into the door, just to give himself something to lean on, because his knees are going a little weak. He can tell Steve has been drinking soda in the car, and maybe eating candy, because he tastes sweet like Dr. Pepper, and a little fruity. He pushes his knee up between Steve's legs, groans when he realizes that Steve had already dropped them open and was waiting for him. Steve keens, loud enough that Dustin suspects it can probably be heard in the hall, and Dustin presses his thumb gently into the soft part under his jaw, a halfhearted warning that turns into him angling Steve's face so that he can slide their tongues together in an even more satisfying way.

Steve's hands are roaming, which is unusual, as he normally keeps them clutched in Dustin's shirt, or draped over his shoulders. It honestly feels like he's touching Dustin everywhere, hands warm and huge, pressing against Dustin's body in a way that makes his skin come alive, makes his mind blank out, unable to focus on anything but wanting more. He's harder than he thinks he's ever been in his life. When he feels Steve hook a couple of fingers under the waistband of his jeans, it's too much and he actually has to break the kiss for a second, a muffled, "Fuck," tearing out of him as he tries to catch his breath.

Steve whimpers, and when Dustin takes the chance to really look at his face, it's devastating. His pupils are blown so wide, Dustin can hardly see any color around the outside, his entire face is pink, his lips red and swollen, shiny with their spit, slightly open as he pants. His brow is furrowed, tight and desperate, and he looks trapped somewhere between pain and pleasure. _Need_ , Dustin's mind supplies, and he realizes with a sort of excruciating clarity, it's the right name for the expression.

He strokes Steve's jaw softly, enjoying the rasp of his stubble, trying to ignore the way he wants to know what it would feel like against other parts of his body. "You're okay," he says softly, and presses his thumb lightly against Steve's swollen lower lip when he lets out another sharp, wounded noise. Steve presses his tongue against the pad of Dustin's thumb and leaves it there, and it's disastrously adorable to see his tongue poking out like that. "Tell me what you need," he says, still trying to keep his voice steady and calm. The effort is monumental in the face of his heart trying to push it's way up his throat, while still throbbing in time with the aching, twitchy feeling in his dick. Steve's face crumples a little more, and he laps at Dustin's thumb a few times in a way that looks like self comfort. So Dustin leaves it there and leans in again, nuzzling Steve's cheek a little and kissing his temple. "It's okay, Steve. You just gotta let me know."

He feels Steve give a small, jerky nod; feels the hot rush of him sighing against Dustin's hand, and then Steve tugs at his jeans a little bit, and Dustin has to cant his hips forward to keep his balance, has to push his body closer to Steve's. It's actually a bit of a struggle to avoid pressing his thigh up snug into Steve's crotch, but he manages it, because he doesn't want to go there without permission. Steve whines again, leans back the slightest bit, so that Dustin's thumb slips away from his mouth, and says slow and slurred, "This, please."

He moves then, presses up into Dustin, so that he's almost seated on his thigh, and Dustin can feel the long, hard line of of Steve's dick where it's held tight inside his jeans, following the line of his thigh. It startles him, and he presses harder against it without thinking, a stuttering groan dropping low in his chest, because _fuck_. That's Steve's dick pressed into his leg, and Steve is rocking up against him in agonizingly tiny movements, making sounds that are even worse than what Dustin had heard on the phone that night, because they're right here, low and broken, and he can almost feel them racking Steve's body as he makes them.

"Jesus fuck," he says, low and reverent. "Okay. Yeah. _Fuck_."

He takes a second to adjust their positions, re-angling his body so that he can give Steve leverage, letting him sink a little lower against the door so that Dustin has room to press his thigh tighter between Steve's, bracing his own arm by Steve's head so that he can still have the balance to lean down and kiss Steve through it. Steve keeps one hand hooked inside of Dustin's jeans, the tips of his fingers so close to where Dustin's dick is sitting, hard and aching, that it's kind of difficult to breathe, and the other hand, he places on Dustin's arm, curving his fingers into the elbow that's pressed against the door, hanging on, but not pulling enough to make it hard to stay in place.

Dustin kisses him again, touching Steve's tongue with his at the same time that he moves his thigh up a little more into Steve's crotch. Steve presses into him harder than he expected, arching up into the kiss, all sloppy teeth and tongue, letting himself slide up Dustin's thigh at the same time. The feel of it is incredible, and Dustin feels his dick flinch in his pants, a little desperate to be touched, aching from the sensation of Steve's erection pressing so firmly against him. The kiss is open enough now that they're panting into each other's mouths, all technique lost as they just try to keep their tongues connected.

Steve is loud, even more so when his mouth is open, noises flowing out of him non stop, quick, and punchy because he's breathing too fast to maintain anything for long. He's moving his hips in a rhythm, and Dustin thinks it's best if he stays still, let's Steve take what he needs without distraction. He settles his free hand at Steve's neck, rubbing the soft skin gently, trying to soothe him as he starts to sound more and more broken. Eventually, Steve breaks the last of the kiss and drops his head to Dustin's shoulder, probably unable to maintain so many things at once. Dustin can tell from the frantic edge in his whimpers that he's getting overwhelmed, tries to think of what he can do to ease him out of it, tries not to be distracted thinking about the fact that Steve is probably going to come in his arms if he takes care of him right (if he lets himself dwell on it, he thinks he might come in his pants before he can even take care of Steve, and that's not acceptable to him at this point).

He shushes Steve, as softly as he can, and moves them a little again, disrupting Steve's rhythm, but only so that he can give him something a little better. "Come here, sweetheart." Steve moans, and his voice cracks around it like he might be about to cry. Dustin pulls him closer, lets him press his face deeper into his neck, and places a firm hand at his nape. "You're okay. I'm gonna take care of you." He can feel Steve's fingers flexing against his skin where they're still curled inside Dustin's pants, and it takes everything in him not to jolt into it, looking for any sort of touch. He holds himself very still for a moment, and then, when he thinks he has it under control, drops his arm from the door, letting his hand fall to Steve's hip, pressing his fingers in gently to encourage Steve to move again. "Take it slow," he murmurs, directly against Steve's ear. "Just take it slow. I promise I'm going to take care of you."

Steve sobs, breath hot and wet against Dustin's neck, and Dustin presses a kiss against his temple as he starts to move again. He goes slower this time, still pressing hard against Dustin, and the line of his erection is solid enough that it almost makes his muscles ache under the pressure, but he's not going to tell him to stop. This time, Dustin does move with him, giving him a little counter pressure as he tries to ride it out. He thinks this is right, because Steve's teeth are on his neck now, just touching the skin because his mouth is open as he tries to breathe through it, still unable to clamp down on the raw, keening noises coming out of him.

"That's it," Dustin says, when Steve presses even closer, uses the leverage of his grip on Dustin's pants to grind hard, his entire body starting shake. "Come on. You're so pretty, Steve. Fuck, baby, come on. You're doing so good."

Steve is racked with another torturous sounding sob, and Dustin feels the fingers slip even farther into his jeans, is so distracted that he barely catches Steve's desperate, stuttering, "Dusty, please, wanna touch you."

It takes him a few seconds to even process what Steve's said, because he's been trying _very hard_ to ignore the fact that he's closer to coming than he can ever remember being without touching himself, and that he can feel moisture gathering against his hip where his cock is leaking, and he realizes with a startled moan that Steve's fingers are touching the wet spot. Then he realizes what Steve is asking and feels another stupid, broken noise bubble out of him before he manages to reply, barely coherent, "Fuck, Steve. I might come if you do, but fucking yes, you can do whatever you want, sweetheart. Fuck."

Steve drags his fingers out of Dustin's pants, then, still panting hot and open into his neck, head angled a little down so that he can see what he's doing. Dustin can feel him fumbling at the buttons on his jeans. It takes him a little while, but he does manage to get the button undone and the zipper down, and Dustin is mostly trying not to come right now, immediately, before Steve even touches him at all when he hears Steve sob like he might actually be shedding tears and say, "You're so soft, Dusty. Fuck you look so good." Steve runs a trembling hand over the skin he's revealed by opening Dustin's jeans, and it seems a little involuntary when he ruts up against Dustin's thigh again. Then he's pushing Dustin's underwear down a little, and it doesn't take much for Dustin's cock to come free. He can barely hear Steve's whimper over the sound of his own sharp intake of breath, surprised by the cold, and also suddenly a little nervous, because no one has ever seen him hard before, and he thinks he might actually die of heartbreak if Steve doesn't like it.

Steve just moans, soft and hurt and turns his head to press his open mouth back onto Dustin's neck, licking him for a second before he pulls back to mumble, "It's so pretty, Dusty. You're so pretty. Fuck."

Then it's Dustin's turn to whine, high pitched and surprised, because Steve's running his fingers over the head of Dustin's dick, pressing the tip of his middle finger gently into the slit, which makes Dustin tense up all over and hold Steve a little tighter as he sucks in a hard breath. Steve ruts into his thigh again, and his entire body is trembling when he wraps his hand around Dustin for real, taking one long stroke, squeezing lightly to the point that Dustin's vision starts going white at the edges, and nonsense starts spilling out of his mouth uncontrollably. It's mostly cursing, he thinks, mixed in with Steve's name, and maybe a little bit of begging, though he can't be sure; can't really focus on anything except the warm, slippery friction of Steve's hand on his dick, and the delicious, hard press of Steve's erection against his thigh.

"Dusty, I'm so close," Steve pants, still pushing himself up Dustin's leg exactly in time with the movement of his hand.

Dustin shudders, tries not to go loose and wobbly, because he's the one holding Steve up right now, and Steve is close to coming, and Dustin thinks that if he dies right now, the only thing he'll regret is that Steve didn't get to come yet, because, _fuck_ Steve deserves to come, and he wants to hear him do it, and feel the way his dick twitches in his jeans when it happens; wants to hold him after, while he comes down, and help him clean up, and take care of him forever. He presses a kiss into Steve's hair, squeezes the back of his neck as gently as he can, and tries not to sound utterly destroyed when he says, softly, "That's good, baby. You're doing so good."

Another, high, animal sound, and Steve's teeth are at his neck again, a little sharper this time as he presses their bodies even closer together, hand a little stalled on Dustin's dick because he can't move as well anymore, but that's okay, because Dustin can already feel his orgasm coming, is just trying to keep it at bay long enough for Steve to come first, realizes he might be failing as the feeling crashes over him sudden and powerful.

"Fuck, Steve. Fuck. Baby, I think I'm gonna come. Fuck."

Steve moans, low and long, different than the rest of his little, staggering noises, and presses his thumb into Dustin's cockslit, rubbing into it tenderly, the rest of his fingers pressing gentle and persistent around the head. Dustin's orgasm hits him hard enough that he stumbles a little, has to press them both up hard against the door just to keep them balanced as his whole body goes tight and twitchy, his vision going black as he comes in _Steve's hand_. "Fuck," he says, tight and out of control all at once. "Fuck, shit, Steve, fuck. Fuck."

He notices, as he rides out the last of it, dick still twitching hard, even though he has nothing left to spill, that Steve is incredibly still, pressing _hard_ into Dustin, making a long, quiet, painful noise. "Oh, Steve," he says, a little heartbroken.

"Dusty," Steve whines back, frustrated and shattered. "Please." It's drawn out, long and low, and Dustin kisses him to help him stop, pushes his tongue into Steve's mouth and licks him open, dropping a hand down between them, and pressing it tight between Steve's thighs, squeezing just enough to let him feel it in his balls, and then dragging down the length of his cock and stopping to press at the head. He rubs gently, rolling the heel of his palm over the wet spot where Steve's been leaking while Steve shakes like a leaf in his arms.

He pulls away from the kiss enough to talk, and murmurs encouragingly into Steve's mouth, "That's it. Come on, baby."

Steve scrabbles at Dustin for a moment, desperately pulling him even closer, his come covered hand sliding a little over Dustin's skin, groping at his bare hip for purchase, his other hand holding tightly on to Dustin's arm as he presses up into his touch. Then he's moaning into Dustin's mouth, and Dustin can feel the hard jerk of his dick as he comes, the wet heat of it spreading through the fabric of his jeans almost instantly because there's so much of it. He kisses Dustin while it happens, open and wanting, and Dustin gives him what he's looking for, holds him as gently as he can while he comes for what seems like a very long time.

When they break apart, both breathing hard, both shaking uncontrollably, Steve's cheeks are wet, and Dustin hurts for him, that it's so overwhelming to come that he cries when it happens. He kisses him again, closed mouth and soft, then kisses each of his cheeks, and his nose, and his forehead, saying, "I love you," between each one, because he thinks Steve deserves to hear it as often as Dustin is able to say it. When Steve finally stops shaking enough that Dustin thinks he's okay to stand on his own, he steps back, just enough to pull him over to the bed.

"Sit down, sweetheart."

Steve does as he's told, and Dustin takes a second to tuck himself in before he kneels down in front of him, holding his hands and looking up into his face. "Are you okay?"

Steve gives him a little smile, so sweet Dustin feels himself getting choked up and has to swallow hard around a lump in his throat. "Yeah," Steve replies, soft and wondrous. He smiles a little bigger, but his eyes begin to water again. "Can you please come up here with me?"

Dustin doesn't hesitate; crawls into the bed and pulls Steve with him, so they're half sitting against the wall, and Steve is wrapped up in Dustin's arms, bracketed by his legs, as close as totally surrounded as he can get in this spot. Dustin feels him go a little looser, listens as he lets out a long, shaky breath.

"It's a lot," he whispers, like he doesn't want to admit it. "I just...I want it, and it was good, but it's a lot."

Dustin hugs him tighter, holds him like that for a very long time, doesn't care that they are both getting sticky and gross because they haven't cleaned up, only wants to make sure Steve is secure and happy before anything else.

After a while, Steve stirs a little bit, makes a quiet, unhappy noise, and says, "Fuck I don't think I can handle going to the bathroom to clean up, Dusty. Fuck." He sounds a little panicked, and Dustin hates it, wishes he could take all of Steve's pain away forever, and feels powerless in the face of it.

He can at least make this better, though, and he shushes Steve softly. "You don't have to, it's okay. I've got water in here, and washcloths and stuff. You can just use those. It's okay. You don't have to go out there until you're ready." He kisses Steve's forehead lightly, as much for his own comfort as Steve's. "I can wait outside if you want, if it'll help."

"No," Steve says, firm and sure. "No, I don't want you to go."

So Dustin helps him peel out of his jeans, and his boxers, and has to stop for a second because, _holy shit_ , even soft, Steve's cock is beautiful, and it makes his stomach turn over and fill with molten butterflies when he looks at it. He feels his face go hot and embarrassed. "Fuck, Steve, it's so pretty, what the fuck?"

Steve laughs, a real, happy thing that warms Dustin to the core. "No one's ever complimented my dick before," Steve says, teasing Dustin, even though Dustin distinctly recalls Steve saying the same thing about Dustin's dick earlier. Although, to be fair, Steve had said it _before_ the orgasms, which means he probably can't be held accountable.

Still, Dustin's a little offended at the implication, because what the _fuck_? He _knows_ Steve has fucked a lot of girls, and honestly, it's all kinds of fucking wrong that no one ever told him what a perfect dick he has. "Steve," he says gravely, not even a little bit teasing. "Your dick is beautiful, and I am honestly baffled that anyone who's ever seen it could like... _not_ tell you. I'm about to switch to a fucking poetry major so I can learn to write sonnets about how beautiful your dick is. I'm never gonna be over it."

Steve laughs again, and steals the washcloth from Dustin's hand while he ogles. "Okay, Mr. Romantic. I get it."

He's blushing, hard, looking down so that his face is a little hidden behind his hair, smiling that ruinous shy smile he has. It's the one that makes Dustin want to burn down the whole world and rebuild it just to make everything perfect for Steve. " _Fuck_ ," he says, all awe and wonder. "I love you so much, _holy shit_."

Steve looks up at him then, face a little more serious, open and lost, achingly sincere. "I love you, too." His brow furrows, like he's not satisfied with just that, and he reaches out to touch Dustin's face, fingers light on his cheek. He makes a frustrated noise, and Dustin realizes this is another one of those times where Steve is thinking a lot of things and can't say them. So he just presses his face into Steve's hand and smiles up at him, and tries to convince him that it's okay, that he doesn't have to say everything. Steve stares at him, long and hard, and finally, repeats, in the most earnest tone Dustin's ever heard, "I love you, too." It's more than enough.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Dustin notices almost immediately after that first weekend that people in the dorm are treating him differently. Everyone gives him a wide berth in the hallways, and they stare at him, flat and unfriendly if he says hello. In the two weeks since Steve was here, he's heard the word _faggot_ more times than the entire rest of his life combined. They never say it to his face, but somehow, conversations just happen to go there when Dustin comes into earshot, voices never kept low enough that the words don't carry down the hall. There are slate message boards hanging on every door in the dorm, and more than once he's come back from class to find varying levels of innuendo and vitriol scribbled on his, once even in permanent marker instead of chalk.

Fortunately, none of the DnD club, or the computer club live in his dorm, and the rumors about him appear to be mostly contained to his building. It's a really big school, and Dustin thinks, as long as he can keep his friendly acquaintances away from his dorm mates he'll still have at least some amiable people around. Still, he's actually finding it kind of difficult to manage. He's used to being an outcast, never having really achieved much in the way of popularity during middle or high school. The difference is, he'd always had his friends with him, then, and they'd all been castigated for the same things, been able to commiserate and support each other. Now, though, he hasn't got anyone around that he can tell about it, at least not anyone who will understand exactly what's happening and can identify with what he's going through.

It's lonely, and if he's honest, it's kind of starting to get to him. He hasn't seen Steve in three weeks, and even though they still talk every day, sometimes more than once, he's starting to miss him in a way that's all consuming, eating away at him during any moment that he's not actively doing something else. He hasn't told Steve what's happening, either; doesn't want to give him any reason to feel guilty, or to think he has to stay away, or behave differently when he's here. He's mentioned that things have been difficult, that he's been stressed and busy. Every time Dustin mentions anything of the sort, Steve sounds worried, and sad, and a little angry, like he wants to march over to the college and hold them personally accountable for not doing everything possible to make Dustin's life wonderful. It helps, even if Steve doesn't know what's really wrong.

He does tell his mom, once he has her word that she won't say anything to Steve. He talks to her every day, checking in on her to make sure she's doing alright. He's relieved, but not surprised (because Steve is amazing, and Dustin hadn't expected anything less), to know that Steve still visits her regularly. Apparently they have dinner every Wednesday now, and sometimes other days as well, which comforts Dustin a lot. He knows his mom is lonely without him, and is glad Steve is there for her, to pick up some of the pieces. So when he tells her, he makes sure that she won't mention anything to Steve, and she reluctantly agrees, with the caveat that she doesn't think keeping things from him is the right solution.

He tells her about everyone ignoring him, and the graffiti on the door, and the slurs, and how he's afraid that his new friends are going to find out and not want him around anymore. He tells her how lonely it is, to have no one around him that can help him deal with this, because all his friends are scattered across the country now, and she and Steve are still in Hawkins, and Dustin can't trust anyone else not to walk away if they find out. By the time he tells her how much it worries him to think that Steve might go through something similar if people found out about him, he's crying, and she's making motherly cooing noises, shushing him and telling him over and over that it will be okay.

"Not everybody is like that, Dusty," she says, soft and serious. "You have a lot of time to find your people, to find the ones that are going to protect you the way you protect them." She sighs as he sniffles and makes a noise of half-agreement. "All you can do, honey, is keep on being yourself. Don't take any shit, but don't assume everyone is going to give you shit either. Don't let it make you hard."

He sighs in relief, because sometimes, what he really needs is to have his mom give him advice. It doesn't even matter what the advice is, a lot of the time (although this particular advice, he thinks, is pretty good). It's just the comfort of knowing she's there, that he can tell her anything, and that she cares about him and always will. "Thanks Mom," he says, all wobbly and tear stained. It makes him feel like he's a little kid again, but sometimes, he thinks, it's okay to just need your mom.

"Oh Dusty," she replies, sad and tender. "I love you, honey. It's gonna be okay."

He smiles, filled with with affection and gratitude, always so grateful to have had her there when neither of them had anyone else. "I love you, too, Mom. Thanks for listening."

"Any time, Dusty. You know I'm always here for you, even if I can't come see you in person."

"I know." He feels calmer, more happy, like maybe this isn't all so overwhelming after all. He knows the feeling will probably fade, but for now, he's going to hold on to it.

As the weeks drag on, though, and he still hasn't seen Steve or his mom, it gets difficult again. He thinks he might be losing weight, pushing himself too hard in order to cope with the stress. He wants to see Steve so badly it's hard to sleep sometimes, and there have been multiple nights that they've stayed on the line until Dustin was asleep, and he'd woken up in the morning with the imprint of the dial pad on his cheek. Those are usually the best mornings for him, these days.

He's still managing to get things done, is acing all of his classes, putting up a good front when he goes to his clubs, doing a good job when he's working in the library. He even has fun doing most of those things, because, hey, he's technically living the dream right now. Still, he doesn't want to be in his dorm unless it's absolutely necessary, and in his quiet moments, when he has a break to breathe and think, everything in him aches, alone and afraid, needing to be touched and cared for by someone who _knows_ him.

It's been six weeks since he last saw Steve in person. Apparently the life of a teacher is not free on the weekends, at least not when you're the new guy on the faculty. Steve's had at least one school related activity every weekend since that first visit, some of them coming up not very far in advance, and Dustin is starting to feel like he's not _going_ to see Steve again until he himself has a break long enough to go home. It's currently 1am on a Thursday (or Friday now, if he's being technical), and Dustin hasn't slept more than an hour in three days. When he'd gotten back to the dorm today, someone had body checked him into his own door as he was trying to unlock it, and the graffiti on his board just said “FAGGOTS FUK OFF" in scratchy capital letters. He hadn't mentioned it to Steve that evening, because he never does, had just told him that he was having a rough day, that he had too much work this week, and hadn't been sleeping.

When he calls Steve again, as the clock ticks over to 2am, he's in tears, because suddenly, it's _too fucking much_. Steve picks up on the fourth ring, groggy and confused, and Dustin wants to see him so bad he thinks he might throw up. "Hello? Who is this?" His voice is raspy, and he sounds like he's annoyed but is trying to reserve judgment, because anyone who calls at 2am probably has a good reason.

Dustin breaks down sobbing at the sound of his voice, barely able to choke out, "Steve, it's me," before he's just crying loudly, cradling the phone against his face and wishing it were Steve's hand.

"Dusty?" Steve sounds immediately alert and afraid, and it makes Dustin's chest clench harder as guilt fills up his lungs. "Dusty, are you okay? What's going on? Are you hurt?"

Dustin moans sadly as he tries to breathe deep enough to reply. "No, I'm okay. I'm sorry-" He cuts himself off devolving into another long sob, tries to stop it, hugging himself hard and curling up into the corner of his bed, but can't seem to get it under control. He vaguely has the sense of mind to hope that no one fucking hears him, because it'll just be more fuel for the fire.

"Dusty," Steve says, all soft and tender. "Did something happen?"

"No!" He says, quickly, and then literally chokes on the lie, coughing wetly around his tears. After he gets his breathing back under control, he breaks and amends, words quick and tripping over themselves, "Yes. A lot happened and I didn't tell you, because I didn't want you to worry."

He hears Steve make a pained, whimpering sound, probably deep in his chest before he says, kind and admonishing, "Dusty, no."

"I'm sorry," Dustin says again, still crying hard enough that he can't string too many words together. "I'm sorry."

Steve doesn't say anything for a long moment, but Dustin can hear rustling in the background, like he's getting up. After a few more seconds, he finally replies, still in that gentle, talking to a scared animal kind of voice, "It's okay, Dusty. It's okay. Just let it out."

There's another few minutes of quiet as Dustin just cries and listens to the sounds of movement on Steve's end, wondering what he's doing, and then Steve says resolutely, "I'm coming to see you."

Dustin's head snaps up in surprise, as if Steve was standing across from him and said it. He chokes and coughs, having taken a sharp, wet breath in surprise, and when he can, he says, "What?"

Steve's tone brooks no argument. "I'm coming to see you. I have to make a few calls to set up a substitute for tomorrow, but it's fine. I have sick days. I don't care what happened, or if nothing happened, or whatever. I'm not fucking leaving you by yourself like this."

"You don't have to," Dustin says, but what he really means is, _Yes, please. I need you._

Steve scoffs, but his voice is so kind it makes Dustin's heart ache when he says, "Dusty, I have to and I want to."

Dustin swallows hard, still hiccupy from crying, and says whisper quiet, "Okay," because he's powerless to say no to Steve doing exactly what he wants right now. He knows he should, knows that the responsible, good thing to do is to tell Steve to go back to bed, get a good night's sleep, and not miss work because of him, but he can't. He is young and vulnerable tonight, and he needs help, and Steve is the one who can help him, and he's just not a big enough person to refuse.

"Are you going to be okay until I get there, Dusty?"

"Yeah, I think so," he replies, and tries very hard not to start crying again. "I'm sorry."

Steve sighs. "Don't be sorry. I'm going to take care of you, okay? Just sit tight."

"Okay."

"I'll see you in a few hours. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Steve hangs up then, and Dustin feels tense and unhappy, but somehow still relieved. He hates himself a little bit for breaking down and being selfish instead of sticking to his guns about not worrying Steve. He knows that he's going to have to tell him everything when he gets here, and he feels like he should punish himself for how relieved he is at the prospect. He thinks it might make him a shitty boyfriend, but he's not really sure. He knows that, if their positions were reversed, he would do whatever he could to comfort Steve, even if it meant hauling ass across the state at 3 in the morning to give him a hug. More importantly, he thinks, he wouldn't hold it against Steve for needing that, because he loves him, and he knows that Steve is fragile and needs caring for.

But Steve, he knows, is also a consummate protector, always willing to go to the mat to keep others safe, even if it means sacrificing his own safety. Dustin thinks that's a huge part of why he loves Steve so much. Even with all of his hurt, and all of his trauma, Steve is still a man that will do everything he can to take care of the people around him. He's broken, and delicate, and needy, but also kind of a massive badass. He's never once let Dustin down, has been there for him through all the dark shit and lingering terror after the things that happened, and also for all the petty teenage shit that had felt monumental at the time, but was really probably stupid and unimportant. He needs Steve, he realizes, not for the first time, just as much as Steve needs him. It was dumb to try and pretend otherwise, to keep things from him when all this time Steve probably would've been happy to offer him comfort and support. He feels so stupid, thinking about it now, sitting in his room, waiting while Steve does something ridiculously extravagant to fix the wound Dustin inflicted on himself by keeping it all a secret, because now there's no other way to help.

Steve arrives a little before 4am, his knock so soft that Dustin almost misses it. When Dustin opens the door and sees how heartbroken Steve looks, eyes focused on the chalkboard on Dustin's door, he remembers that he never erased the graffiti from today, and looking at it, suddenly feels all the hurt well up inside of him again. "Steve," he says, and his voice cracks on it, because he's about to start crying and just wants to be hugged while does.

Steve does hug him, arms gentle and sweet, one around Dustin's shoulders and the other at the back of his neck, rubbing gently as Steve walks them carefully back into the room and nudges the door shut with his foot. He feels Steve kiss his temple, feels him running his hand soothingly down his spine, hears him saying, soft and careful, "I'm here. It's okay. I'm here."

He cries for a long time, face pressed into Steve's neck, arms tight around his middle, because he doesn't want to let go, and Steve lets him; just stands there, rocking him back and forth gently, whispering soothing nonsense, and quiet, sweet, ' _I love you_ 's. It's brutal, his body shuddering under the wracking force of his sobs, lungs feeling too tight and small, face hot and skin stinging from so many tears. He hasn't cried like this in a long time, probably years, and he realizes now that maybe he should let himself do it a little more often.

When he finally starts to calm down, breath still hitching, but tears and snot flowing a little less freely, he tries to say, "Sorry," but it comes out a little garbled.

Steve just nuzzles at his temple and says gently, "Don't be sorry. It's okay to need a cry."

Dustin nods, and hugs him a little tighter, because he can't quite stand the thought of letting go yet, even though they're both thoroughly soggy now, and it's starting to get tiring standing there, and Steve's been driving for two hours, and it's past four in the fucking morning, and Dustin knows he probably only got an hour or two of sleep. He sniffles, and tries again. "I'm glad you're here." He means it enough that is almost pushes him back over the edge to crying again.

Steve leans back a little, not breaking their hug, but giving himself room to look at Dustin's face. He looks sad, his big doe eyes glossed over, brow drawn, mouth turned down and red from him biting nervously at his lips. "I'm glad I'm here, too," he says, serious. "I'm so fucking sorry, Dusty. I don't know all that's been going on, but I hate that you're hurting so much."

Dustin can't find anything to say, just looks at him, and feels like just seeing him is some sort of healing balm. Steve is rubbing gently at his face now, using the end of his sleeves to mop up Dustin's tears and snot, concerned and delicate. Dustin feels like he's looking at his entire world, like nothing else is important if this man isn't with him. He kind of wishes he could marry him, if he's being honest, but he at least has enough presence of mind to know that this is not the right situation in which to mention such things.

Instead he tries to muster up a smile. It hurts a little, because he still feels the sadness and pain gnawing away inside of him, but he does it anyways, because Steve makes him want to smile, even when things are shit. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," he says, and is glad he's calm enough to get full sentences out now. "I didn't want you to worry about me, but I should've known better. I don't think it would've gotten this bad if I'd just told you about what's going on."

Steve gives him a sad, aching smile, pressing his thumbs soft and soothing against the raw skin under Dustin's eyes. "Dusty, I love you," he says, intense. "I love you and I want to take care of you just as much as you take care of me. You don't have to keep things to yourself for my sake. I want to support you, no matter what, okay?"

Dustin leans forward to touch their foreheads together, and the extra proximity is even more calming. "Yeah," he says, and feels like all of his stress is draining out of him. "Thank you."

Steve makes an agreeable sort of sound, like he's satisfied that Dustin has gotten his point, and kisses him, simple and chaste, and exactly what Dustin needs.  


	12. Chapter 12

They'd ended up awake until well past sunrise, lying in Dustin's cramped little dorm bed as Dustin told Steve everything that had been happening. Steve had held Dustin the whole time, let him snuggle into his side, running gentle hands through his hair and offering all the comfort he could while Dustin spilled his guts. Then, after the whole story was out, and Steve had scolded him one more time, gentle, but serious, for not telling him sooner, they just stayed there, curled together, dozing throughout the morning.

It's mid afternoon by the time they finally crawl out of bed, mostly because Dustin is getting hungry and Steve agrees that going to eat something is probably a good idea. It takes them a long time to get going, both a little groggy for lack of any real sleep, but Dustin thinks it's really nice, getting ready for his day with Steve there. He feels like they work well around each other, even in this tiny space, and it never feels like they're crowding each other, or infringing on each other's space. It helps that Steve stops to give him kisses every few minutes, laughing sweet and happy, like neither of them has a care in the world.

It's a little more difficult when they finally leave, Steve stopping to erase Dustin's message board with a stormy look on his face. There aren't too many people in the halls or common room right now, everyone gone to their afternoon classes, but Dustin still feels the hostility in the air as they make their way to the elevators. It's easier once they're out of the dorm, on the open sidewalk, where no one who passes by knows who he is, or that all he wants to do is hold Steve's hand while they walk. Dustin sighs, feeling a little bitter about it all, and hates that he can't just be happy to have Steve with him. Steve bumps their shoulders together gently, and when Dustin looks at him, his face is all soft and curious, and he's so pretty Dustin can hardly stand it.

"I really want to hold your hand," Dustin explains, tone petulant and harsh.

Steve stops walking, tugging lightly at Dustin's elbow to stop him as well. His face is serious, brow deeply furrowed, mouth turned down in the tiniest frown. "Dusty," he says, "it's your choice. I will absolutely hold your hand if you want, but I don't want you to be miserable because of it later on. It's okay to not do it if you're trying to protect yourself."

Dustin looks at him for a long time, tries to really consider it, to think about what it will mean. He knows, without a doubt, that people won't keep their mouths shut on the street, but he thinks he can handle that. It's not so hard when it's random strangers saying shit to your back and not people that you technically live with. He thinks, too, that it could be bad if one of his fledgling friends sees them, that it might lead to him being ostracized from his clubs, left with no friends on campus. Then, he's angry, because who the fuck cares if they don't like him for holding Steve's hand? Steve is one of the two most important people in his life, and he's pissed that anyone has made him feel like he needs to pretend otherwise just to fit in.

He's never been someone who pretended to be something he wasn't just to get approval, and he certainly doesn't want to start now. He understands being subtle back home, where their families are, where Steve's job is, because it's a small town, and it could really fuck up their lives, but here? Here it's just other asshole college kids, and Dustin is perfectly capable of defending himself if he needs to. He doesn't need people in his dorm or his classes to _like_ him, doesn't want to try to gain their respect if they're shitty enough to treat him like trash for loving someone as obviously amazing as Steve.

"Fuck them," Dustin says, emphatically. " _Fuck them_. I don't fucking care. I'll be discreet at home, where it might actually bite our future in the ass if I'm not, but here? Fuck them. They're fucking shit. I don't want to let them force me to pretend. Fuck." He manages to keep his voice down, so that mostly only Steve will hear him, but he's angry in a way he can't really ever recall having been angry before. He's fucking pissed that he let these assholes get to him, to the point that he called Steve crying in the middle of the night. He's pissed that they think they have the right to fuck with someone because of something so out of anyone's control. He's pissed he ever even _considered_ giving them any sort of power over him. He knows it's still going to be hard to deal with, but he's fucking done pretending like the shit people might give him is more important. "Are you sure you're okay with it?" He asks, because he doesn't want to make Steve uncomfortable either, knows that Steve has a lot more baggage about things than Dustin does, and in the end, Steve is the most important thing in all of this.

Steve shrugs, smiles that cool guy smile of his. "I mean, fuck them. I definitely want to hold your hand, just not if it's going to mess everything up for you."

Dustin smiles, happy and mischievous, and slides his hand into Steve's with a little thrill. "I'm gonna hold your hand until I die, just so you know."

Steve looks away, biting his lip on a smile, shy and pleased, and Dustin is immediately sure that this was the right choice. Even if people fuck with him every day until he leaves this place, it's worth it just for the way Steve's face looks right now, the way he's lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently at Dustin's hand, the way he says, "Yeah, okay," all embarrassed and adorable.

By the time they get back to the dorm, Dustin is even more pleased with his decision, because no one has given them any shit at all. He's sure there were probably unfriendly looks, or whispered comments that he didn't notice, but no one said anything to their faces, or got in their way, and it ended up just being a very nice afternoon. They'd eaten lunch, and then wandered around campus for a few hours, so that he could show Steve his favorite places, and now that they're back, they still have a few hours before Steve has to leave again (he'd only managed to get out of work Friday, but still has to coach tomorrow and needs to drive home tonight). They spend the time alternating between long, lazy kisses, idle chatting, and cuddling, which Dustin can admit, he's more than a little fond of.

When Steve does leave, it's hard to say goodbye, hard to let him go without kissing him one more time, over and over, telling him what a good boyfriend he is for coming in the first place, telling him how pretty he is when he blushes at compliments, telling him how much Dustin will miss him, even if they have plans for Steve to come visit again in three weeks. In the end, it takes Steve an hour to finally get out the door, because he's just as reluctant to leave as Dustin is to let him go. Every time Dustin stops kissing him long enough to give him a compliment, Steve just buries his face in Dustin's neck and kisses him there instead, and it turns into a vicious, delightful cycle that Dustin would be happy to continue forever if he didn't want Steve to get home early enough to have a good night's rest.

Still, once he is gone, Dustin finds himself grinning happily at nothing, all the shit he'd been drowning under having been swept away by the force of how right he feels when Steve is around. He's glad now, for how things played out, because it gave him the opportunity to really think about his priorities, and how much power he was giving the assholes around him. He knows it won't always be easy to handle, because being isolated and taunted never is, but he thinks now he has a better perspective about it, a stronger stance from which to combat the negative feelings. It's worth it, to go through hell, to have to look over his shoulder, to have to be more careful about choosing his friends, if it means he can be proud of what he has with Steve, can love him without shame or secrets.

He calls his mom later that night, to tell her that he finally came clean with Steve, to brag to her about how much Steve loves him, that he was willing to drop everything to come see him, to let her know that he's decided to be out at school, even if it's going to make things difficult, and maybe even dangerous. She's proud of him, and of Steve, and tells him over and over how happy she is that he's happy, that he's found such a good boy to love. It's nice, and Dustin feels all sorts of liberated and fierce, like he could take on the whole world if it means he gets to hold Steve's hand at the end of the day.

It's ridiculous, and wonderful, and, as the days drag on, it's what makes the easy days good, and the hard days bearable. He never brings it up himself, but at this point, word has gotten around outside of his dorm, and the rumor mill is a lot faster than he would've imagined for a population this size. He's had some tough conversations with people who had been turning into his friends before, and is happily surprised that not all of them are ready to abandon the friendships altogether. Even the ones that do want to cut him off are pretty civil about it, keeping their vitriol as high minded as they can mange. No one takes a swing at him, no one tells him he's going to hell, or tries to convince him to change. Mostly, they just tell him in no uncertain terms that they can't be friends with someone like him, and that's that.

The biggest relief is that he's not run out of his DnD group, or the computer lab, or anything like that. He gets a lot of uncomfortable looks, and the amount of awkward moments every meeting has skyrocketed, but it's all pretty okay. He thinks maybe it helps that he's so obviously smitten with someone and it makes it very difficult to perceive him as a threat. He knows a lot of straight boys are morons and think he's going to want them automatically, just because they have dicks, so he's sure the fact that he clearly has no interest whatsoever has probably saved him at least a modicum of grief.

Things are still tense, sometimes, and he's a lot more careful when he's going places by himself, makes sure never to be caught alone in a dark corner, always carries his keys between his fingers, never listens to his walkman outside; but for the most part, his life is still good, improved by the decision not to hide or keep secrets about who he is. It doesn't make missing Steve any easier, but it helps that now he can just tell him about it when things get hard, can be reminded of why it's worth it, because keeping Steve a secret should pretty much be a crime in his opinion.

It's unfortunate, but not entirely surprising, that the first time anything really nasty happens, it's when Steve is with him. It's much harder to ignore them, Dustin thinks, when they are both there, happy and open, heedless of whatever internal objections the people around them may have, and it's not a shock that this is when one of the assholes from his floor decides to grow some balls and come for him. It happens out in the open, just outside of the dorm, and Dustin is sure that's no accident, because people who fight inside face pretty harsh punishment.

Dustin and Steve are returning from lunch, and actually aren't even holding hands, because Dustin is talking animatedly about his most recent coding assignment, using both of his hands for emphasis. Steve is mostly just looking at him all soft and amused, and Dustin realizes he probably doesn't understand half of what he's hearing, but he appreciates that Steve likes to listen anyways. At first, it doesn't even register that the person in their way is standing there intentionally, and he sidesteps neatly in an effort to avoid a collision. It's not until he hears the angry, "Hey, faggot," and feels a tight grip on his elbow that he realizes something is about to go down.

He looks at Steve first, to make sure he's alright, and when he sees only a flat, hard look on his face, he turns to the person holding on to him, a sneer already building on his own face. It's Todd, who lives three doors down from him, and his roommate Eric, wearing matching looks of maniacal glee. He pulls experimentally at his arm, but Todd's grip is tight, fingers pressing hard enough into the bones at Dustin's joint to hurt, and possibly even bruise. Dustin scowls. "What do you want, Todd?"

Todd scoffs, turns that vicious grin on his friend and says in a tone laced with malice, "I don't know, what do we want, Eric?"

Eric shrugs, casts his gaze over Dustin, and then Steve, slow and considering. "I don't know about you, but I think I'd like to take these two cocksuckers down a notch." He's looking at Steve when he says it, and Dustin feels himself bristle, feels rage pushing it's way through him in a torrential wave, cleansing him of any fear or apprehension he may have had at the outset. He looks at Steve, watches in awe as his face opens up, a wide, predatory smile coming over it as he drops his posture, slouching into a loose, wide stance, ready to fight. Dustin feels a sort of fierce pride at the sight. He's only seen Steve this way a few times in the past, and never with such confidence behind it. He looks like a fucking wild animal, all slender, easy lines, and coiled, slow grace, just waiting to be released.

"I guess we've got a problem, then, boys," Steve says, and he's got a drawl that Dustin's never heard, his speech thick like molasses, dripping with thinly veiled antagonism that makes him seem like he has more teeth than a man should.

Todd laughs, fingers digging harder into Dustin's arm, but Dustin doesn't even look at him, too enthralled by the sight of Steve. These kids, he thinks, have no idea what they're in for if they don't back off. Todd sounds confident when he says, "Yeah, I think we do have a problem, pretty boy. And I think I know just how to solve it."

Steve's voice is all poison and razors when he replies, "The solution is you stop touching him right now and walk the fuck away before you get hurt."

It goes very quickly from there, and if Dustin's being honest, he doesn't even know who swung first. He just knows that one second, everything is silence and animosity as they process what Steve's said, and the next the assholes are shouting and Steve is ducking and then coming up fast, slamming his face into Eric's, and then catching him with a driving right hook. Dustin feels Todd jerk at his arm, pulling him into place as he winds back with his other fist, clearly aiming to hit Dustin, but Steve is faster than both of them, driving his left elbow sideways into Todd's temple while Eric is still reeling, and the shock of it is enough that Todd lets go of Dustin all together.

Steve shoves him back, then, gentle but firm, and his tone is full of vengeance when he says, "I've got this," and goes in again.

Dustin thinks he should probably be worried for Steve, fighting two guys at once, but he knows Steve can handle himself, has seen Steve fight before, against all kinds of things. There's nothing around that these guys can use as a weapon, and they're both already reeling, heavily on the defense, only able to get in a few off-kilter blows to Steve's face. It's kind of magnificent, Dustin thinks, watching as Steve rams his shoulder up into Todd's solar plexus, and then continues with his momentum to sock Eric straight in the mouth. It's all over pretty quickly, barely even enough time for an audience to gather before Todd and Eric are both crawling on the ground, woozy and either unable or unwilling to get back up.

Steve's knuckles are bloody, his lip split, and his nose bleeding, but otherwise he looks fine. Dustin watches, dazzled and proud as Steve spits a mouthful of blood at their feet, wipes his nose carelessly on the back of his hand and says, vicious and angry, "That's once you've had your asses kicked by a fucking faggot. If you touch him again, don't think for a second that _either of us_ will hesitate to make it twice."

He turns to Dustin, looking him over quickly, and then grinning, blood smeared and happy, like a switch has gone off and all the malevolence has drained out of him. "You okay, man?"

Dustin laughs, because there's not much else he can do. "Yeah," he says, amused and endeared, and a little bit turned on. "I should ask you the same."

Steve just takes his hand, glaring defiantly at the few bystanders that have gathered to watch and says, "I'm fucking great."

When they walk inside, the small crowd of people parts for them, and no one says a god damn word. Dustin thinks it's the best thing he's ever heard.


	13. Chapter 13

They stop by the dining hall to fill a cup with ice before they head back up to Dustin's room, because he's pretty sure Steve's knuckles and face are both going to swell, and he thinks it's probably a fucking shitty idea for Steve to show up at work on Monday obviously fresh off a fist fight. The least he can do is help keep it from looking worse than it already will. Steve just smiles at him, like Dustin is the one who just did something disastrously awesome, and he looks totally smitten. Dustin shoves him playfully while they wait for the elevator and says, amused, "What?"

Steve grins. "Nothin'." He nudges Dustin back, barely any force behind it. "I kicked their asses," he adds, proud and adorable, like a cat that's brought home a dead bird and wants to be praised for it.

Dustin can't help but smile at him, sort of feels like he wants to give Steve treats, and pet him, and make him purr, all sweet and happy, because he definitely deserves a reward. "You did good, sweetheart. Fucking incredible."

When he says it, it's like he's pressed a button and suddenly all the swagger goes out of Steve and all that's left is that soft, preening shyness that wanted Dustin's approval. His eyes have gone wide and surprised, and his mouth drops open just a little bit, barely looking any less sweet for the fact that it's smeared with blood. The noise he makes in his chest is so quiet, Dustin almost misses it, but the fact that he's blushing is readily apparent. Looking at him, Dustin aches with how much he loves him, and it takes a lot of effort not to just kiss him here in the hallway, untended split lip and everything.

Luckily, the elevator comes before Dustin can do anything stupid, and he pulls Steve into it gently, amazed at how calm and pliant he's gone, just from one compliment. They're the only ones in there, so he pulls Steve close to him and says again, quiet and right up against his ear, "You were incredible, babe. I couldn't be any more proud that you're my boyfriend."

The elevator opens on Dustin's floor before Steve can do more than shudder in response, but when they get to Dustin's room, Steve pushes him gently up against the door, face pressed into his neck as he whines Dustin's name, quiet and low. It's kind of amazing, if Dustin's being honest, and he resolves that he really needs to praise Steve more often, because clearly the man needs it. In the meantime, he drapes an arm over Steve's shoulders, hugging him softly as he shushes him. He's still got the cup of ice in his other hand, and he really wants to see to Steve's injuries before anything else, but he doesn't want to force him away either, is too pleased with the delicate whimpering and warm breath against his neck.

"C'mon, Steve," he says carefully, petting the back of Steve's neck to ease the blow. "We've gotta get you cleaned up before you start bruising, and then we can do whatever you want, okay?"

Steve nods against his shoulder, making a quiet sound of agreement and peeling himself reluctantly away from Dustin. He sits on the edge of the bed while Dustin gathers up some clean washcloths and socks, and the pitcher of water from the fridge. He fills a sock with some of the ice, already melting and wet, and gives it Steve with an apologetic grimace. "Put that on your nose," he says. "I'm guessing they're not gonna love you showing up to school all racnoony on Monday."

Steve makes a face, but does as he's told, flinching a little at the cold and the pressure. Dustin grabs a bowl and pours the rest of the ice in, putting a washcloth over the top to keep it from being too cold and setting it in Steve's lap delicately. "Put your knuckles in there," he orders, and Steve does as he's told. While he sits there, obediently icing his wounds, Dustin wets one of the other rags and begins delicately wiping away the blood, first from the back of Steve's hand, and then his knuckles, and then finally his face. Steve cringes a few times, hissing a little in pain, and Dustin hates it. "Sorry, baby. Trying to be gentle."

Steve stares at him when he says it, all wide eyes and blown pupils. "It's okay," he replies, raspy and deep, like the pain is the last thing on his mind, and suddenly Dustin remembers how shy and embarrassed he'd been when he said he liked to be called pet names. It hits him hard and fast, saps him of all his focus and makes it impossible to ignore that Steve is obviously turned on right now, that he wants Dustin, and is only tolerating the first aid because he's waiting for something else. Dustin's hands are shaking as he dabs at Steve's split lip, pressing as lightly as possible, just trying to soak up some of the extra blood without breaking the clot that's already formed. Steve whimpers, presses his tongue against the cut quickly, and then looks guilty for it, like he knows that could make things worse.

Dustin decides that it's good enough, takes the sock of ice gently out of Steve's hand, takes the bowl from Steve's lap and sets everything aside to be dealt with later. He catches the water droplets running over Steve's cheeks from the melted ice with his fingers, wiping them away with as little pressure as possible, and Steve is still just looking up at him, open and and wanting.

"Okay," Dustin says, barely a whisper. "Okay." Steve's face is warm in his hands, despite the ice, and Dustin wants so badly to kiss him that it's almost painful, but he doesn't want to fuck up his lip even worse. He rests his forehead against Steve's and they breathe the same air for a few moments before Dustin asks, "What do you need, sweetheart?"

He feels Steve's hands on his chest, half petting, half holding on, and Steve's eyes are wide and hopeless, because of course he doesn't know what he wants, just knows he needs _something_. Dustin hurts for him, hates that he's still constantly stuck in this weird limbo where he's so responsive and easy, but at the same time, can't quite know what the right relief will be. He pets Steve's face, hoping to soothe him, and is glad when Steve presses into it. After a long moment of just that, Steve's face nuzzled into Dustin's hand, Steve finally looks up at him again and says, timid and unsure, "Can I lie down?"

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you want," Dustin replies, and really fucking means it. He thinks he would do anything Steve asked right now, if only he could take away all his insecurity and just make him feel good.

Steve gives a small nod, spends a second toeing off his shoes, and then turns to adjust the pillows, arranging them so that he can recline against them, still sitting up just a bit. Dustin watches curiously, wondering where Steve will want him to go, and then his stomach drops out all at once because Steve looks up at him, scared and wanting and drops his knees open, cants his hips up just a bit and then settles, splayed wide and reaching out for Dustin. "Like this?" he asks, and sounds so unsure it makes Dustin's eyes go hot and wet just looking at him.

"Yeah," he says, trying to sound reassuring. "Of course." He takes off his own shoes, and tries not to jostle Steve too much when he crawls on the bed with him, settling between his legs. He ends up kneeling more than sitting, Steve's hips nestled between Dustin's knees, his legs hooked up over Dustin's thighs. Steve lets his knees drop a little lower, settling his thighs snugly around Dustin's waist and then moving them a little, just enjoying the sensation, Dustin thinks. Dustin wants to touch him, wants to kiss his pretty, broken mouth, wants to peel him out of his clothes and lick at his sensitive, trembling thighs until he's ready, then suck him off the rest of the way, slow and easy, until he fills Dustin's mouth with come. Instead he puts his hands on Steve's hips, pressing his thumbs gently into the dips near the bones and rubbing through his clothes as he says, "I'll do anything you want, baby. You just have to tell me."

Steve's whole body clenches at that, and he moans, long and hard, thighs pressed tight into Dustin's sides as he squirms, trying to simultaneously push up into Dustin's hands and down so that Dustin will be more snug between his legs. He looks beautiful like this, all long, taut lines, and desperate, open expression. It takes a lot for Dustin to stay still, to keep his hands where they are, to keep himself from pressing Steve down into the mattress and kissing him as soft as possible, licking into his mouth while Steve ruts up against him. Dustin rubs gently at Steve's hips, watches mesmerized as his dick, already fully hard, jumps inside of his jeans. "Jesus fuck, Steve. You're so fucking pretty."

Steve goes still, watching Dustin with wide eyes, making small, wounded sounds in his throat. He looks lost and confused, the effect made all the worse by the bruises starting to come in under his eyes and the painful looking swell of his mouth. Dustin aches for him, wants nothing more than to protect him from everything, forever. More immediately, he wants to make him feel good, wants to take care of him and give him everything he needs, however he needs it.

After a long moment, Steve presses up into Dustin's hands again, shuddering a little as he does it. Then he relaxes, and Dustin watches, captivated, as he starts pulling at his shirt, untucking it in quick, delicate movements, and then dragging it up his chest, as far as he can get it without sitting up. "Touch me like this?" he asks, voice high and uncertain, full of want.

Dustin hears himself groan, and has to ruthlessly quash the urge to rut up against Steve's ass, so close it would barely take any movement at all. He's _beautiful_ , his skin splattered with pretty, dark freckles that Dustin wants to lick. His stomach is slim, but still soft, and Dustin had never really considered Steve's body hair before, but now he's kind of obsessed with the way it covers his chest, and tapers down into a perfect happy trail, dark and coarse against his soft, pale skin. " _Steve_ ," he says, reverent and awed, and Steve just whimpers in response.

Dustin leans forward a bit, careful to cant his hips away, not wanting to startle Steve by grinding into him, but needing a better angle, because he wants to touch everywhere. He braces one hand on the bed by Steve's shoulder and lays the other flat and wide over his ribs. Steve's breathing goes fast and heavy as Dustin pets him in long, slow movements, fascinated by the way he flinches up into the touch. Steve has one arm flung over his eyes, like he can't handle looking at Dustin while this is happening, and his other hand is clamped tight on Dustin's thigh, fingers digging in mercilessly, painful and amazing. Dustin runs his hand over the flat of Steve's belly, letting his fingers dip just barely under the waist of his jeans, and Steve shudders and bucks up into it, keening.

Looking at him, it occurs to Dustin, sharp and mournful, that no one has touched Steve like this in a very long time. No one has put their hands on his skin without ulterior motive or intent to harm him. No one has cared enough about him to touch him gentle and sweet, to try to give him what he needs. The thought makes anger, and sadness, and a sort of desperate, unquenchable fondness all twist up inside of him, until he can feel his eyes burning with the start of tears and he has to lean down and peel Steve's arm away from his face so that he can look in his eyes when he says, "You're so beautiful, and I love you so much. I promise I'm going to take care of you."

Steve whimpers, quiet and wounded, and then puts his hand on the back of Dustin's neck and pulls, just enough to force him to drop to his elbow, so that Steve can lean up and press their mouths together. It's soft, barely even a kiss, both of them mindful of Steve's injured lip, but it's still good. Steve opens up, just enough to touch his tongue against Dustin's mouth, and then waits, lets Dustin lick him open, agonizingly careful, because he doesn't want to make Steve bleed. Once they settle into it, all slow, slick heat, and very little pressure, Dustin lets his hand fall back to Steve's chest, presses his palm tight against his sternum, and revels in the way Steve gasps into his mouth and presses up into his touch. He keeps the pressure firm as he strokes Steve's chest, following the grain of his hair, over his pectoral, letting his fingers brush delicately across his nipple, peaked hard already. Steve makes a harsh, mewling sort of sound and drops away from the kiss, breathing hard, so Dustin presses his thumb against his nipple again, a little firmer this time, and rubs in small, gentle circles.

Steve's entire body arches, like there's some sort of electrical current running through him, and he's holding tightly to Dustin again, fingers digging in to both his thighs as he keens, stuttering out a broken, "Dusty, please."

Dustin runs his hand long and slow over Steve's side, shushing him, waiting for his breathing to calm before saying, "Tell me what you want, sweetheart."

Steve looks lost again, and Dustin hates it, wishes that he could just _know_ what the best thing is, wishes that his only options weren't waiting for Steve to figure it out or possibly pushing things too far. But this is all he can do, so he waits, petting Steve as gently as he can, over his pretty, soft belly, down his sides, and his chest, avoiding his nipples, because he doesn't want to overwhelm him while he's trying to decide what he wants. Eventually, he catches hold of Dustin's wrist, and says, quiet enough that it's hard to hear him, "Will you touch my thighs?" He sounds timid and hesitant, like he's afraid Dustin will say no, or will laugh at him, and Dustin aches with the need to give him everything.

"Yeah," he says, and tries not to sound like his entire world is falling apart. "Anything you want." He sits back, settling himself back where he was before, and Steve drops his legs open around Dustin's hips. He's sucking on his lower lip, shy and nervous, and Dustin thinks it must hurt, but doesn't say anything, doesn't want to make Steve feel even more self-conscious. Instead he just puts his hands on Steve's knees, letting his grip go firm and heavy, so that he'll feel everything through his jeans. Steve shudders, whimpering a little in anticipation, and then dropping off into a low moan as Dustin runs his hands up the inside seams of his jeans. He presses the heels of his hands in a little deeper, just enough that Steve will really feel it. When he reaches the tops, he fans his hands over Steve's hips, and then rubs his thumbs tenderly into the creases where his thighs meet his groin.

Steve shudders and hitches up into the touch, his cock flexing obviously against his jeans. Dustin has to bite down on a groan, feels his own erection twitch in sympathy as he strokes back down, rubbing gently at the insides of Steve's thighs, enjoying the way he trembles and moans in response. He follows the same path a few more times, and then Steve is moaning his name again, soft and pleading, hands fumbling to catch Dustin's wrists. Dustin stops, turns his hands over to hold onto Steve's and says, soothingly, "You're okay, baby. What do you need?"

Steve looks at him with those beautiful doe eyes of his, fingers tight around Dustin's wrists, palm's sweaty and hot. "My jeans," he says, breathless and suffering. "Can we take off my jeans?"

Dustin's whole body goes hot, and he has to let go of Steve's wrist so that he can press the heel of his palm against his own erection, trying to ease some of the pressure there, to keep from doing anything else. He presses hard enough to hurt a little bit, breathing hard through his mouth as he tries to get his heart going slow enough that he can reply. Steve is watching him, rapt, flushed high on his cheeks and down his neck, all the way to his chest. It surprises a moan out of Dustin when he says, tone half needy, half confident, "You look so good when you're trying to control yourself."

"Steve," he replies, strangled and exasperated, because Steve definitely knows he's not making it any easier saying shit like that. But Steve is smiling, soft and sweet, all wonder and happiness, and Dustin can't fucking begrudge him his teasing if it makes him look like that, or gives him his confidence back in any way. He smiles back, rueful and kind of embarrassed, still pressing hard on his dick, waiting for it to chill out. "Just a minute," he says. "We can take them off, I just need a minute."

Steve grins at him, and it's fucking amazing, to see that bragging, confident cat he'd been earlier come out while he's all flushed and horny, still needy and desperate, but proud that he's wrecked Dustin so thoroughly without even touching him. "Jesus," Dustin says, hard and disbelieving. "Are you trying to kill me? Fuck, you're so pretty."

Steve huffs out a little laugh, and says with devastating sincerity, "Well so the fuck are you, so who's killing who, here?"

Dustin can't really answer, suddenly shy and inarticulate in the face of compliments, so he just looks away, unable to keep from smiling. Steve squeezes the hand he's holding gently, rubbing his thumb over the inside of Dustin's wrist while he waits, patient and sweet, despite the way his thighs are still trembling. Finally, after a few minutes, Dustin thinks he can carry on without doing something really embarrassing like coming in his pants just from the sight of Steve in his underwear. He squeezes Steve's hand a little, puts his other hand on Steve's hip and says, "Okay?"

Steve presses up into him and nods. "Yeah," he replies, raspy and quiet.

Dustin is careful about it as he opens Steve's belt and then his fly, trying really hard not to touch him in ways he didn't ask to be touched, even though his dick is right there, hard and obvious, taking up more than its fair share of space. When he has the zip undone, Steve lifts his hips and lets Dustin peel the jeans down, little by little, until they're halfway down his thighs and Dustin has to switch to one leg at a time. It's kind of intoxicating, watching as more and more of Steve's skin is revealed, and he thinks he's probably taken way longer than necessary when he finally pulls them over Steve's left ankle and drops them onto the ground beside the bed.

Steve is panting, and trembling, flushed all over, his shirt pushed up under his armpits, underwear visibly damp, almost sticky where they're stretched tight over his hard dick. "Jesus," Dustin breathes, and isn't sure there is anyone more beautiful on the entire fucking planet. Steve has his arms crossed over his belly, looking shy and vulnerable, and a little afraid, and Dustin wants to comfort him, but doesn't know how. "Are you okay?" he asks, because at least he can do that. He needs to be sure Steve isn't regretting this before things go any further. 

"Yeah," Steve says. "Yeah, I'm okay." It sounds a little shaky, like he's not sure, but then he uncrosses his arms, reaches out to touch Dustin's knees again and says, with more confidence, "I trust you. I'm okay."

It feels like the best gift Dustin's ever been given, and he can't help but smile, fond and grateful. "Okay." He realizes his hands are shaking when he puts them back on Steve's thighs, and thinks there's not really much to be done for it. He's nervous, and turned on, and so in love it's hard to think about anything outside of how much he wants to make Steve feel good. Steve's skin is warm, soft and much paler than his calves, because this part of him doesn't see much sun, and Dustin already can't get enough of touching it. He thinks he could probably spend the rest of his life touching Steve like this and die happy.

Steve sighs, low and relieved when Dustin slides his hands up, rubbing gently as he goes, almost a massage, only gentler, just wanting to give Steve a nice sensation to hold on to. When he reaches the creases of his hips, he follows them with his thumbs again, only now he can feel how warm Steve is here, and it actually makes his mouth water a little, makes him wish he could follow his hands with his tongue, to taste the sweat there, as Steve quivers hard enough to shake the bed. He only manages one more pass before Steve starts keening, choking out his name and scrabbling at his wrists, pulling him forward, so they're face to face again.

Dustin goes easily, braces himself on one elbow, and drops his other hand to Steve's flank, holding on to the outside of his thigh more because he wants to than anything else. Steve looks ruined, and he sounds even worse when he says, slow and slurred, "Wanna touch you. Please." It's drawn out so long that it turns into a moan and Dustin thinks he might lose it just from that, his dick pressed tight against the front of his jeans, desperate for some sort of contact.

He groans, and it comes out deep enough to startle him a little, clears his mind enough for him to say, "Whatever you want, Steve. I swear to god, you can do whatever the _fuck_ you want."

Then Steve's kissing him, much less careful than before, one hand on the back of Dustin's neck to hold him steady, and the other scrabbling gracelessly at his belt. His tongue is hot in Dustin's mouth, pressing in sweet and insistent, and Dustin thinks he might come in a second, just from the fluttery, inconsistent scrape of Steve's fingertips as he tries to open Dustin's pants, so he grabs Steve's wrist, steadying him, and then pulls his own belt open. It comes undone easily enough, thanks almost entirely to muscle memory, Dustin thinks, since his brain is currently totally offline, lost in the feeling of Steve's tongue against his, his puffy lower lip lending a metallic taste to the kiss that Dustin is helpless not to enjoy, only because it's Steve's.

Once his belt is open, Steve manages the button and zipper himself, and the sound of relief he makes when he finally wraps his fingers around Dustin's dick vibrates deep in Dustin's own chest, tearing a moan out of him before he even realizes what's happening. Steve's fingers are warm and gentle, and he strokes Dustin a few times experimentally, making Dustin's vision spot around the edges and forcing him to break the kiss because he's worried he might bite Steve accidentally.

"Dusty," Steve says, breathless and deep all at once. "I fucking love your dick."

Dustin has to dig his fingers into Steve's hip, squeezing hard and almost too much, trying to distract himself from the feeling, trying not to push up into Steve's grip. And then his mind shorts out again, because Steve presses his knees down into Dustin's thighs and uses the leverage to tip him forward a little more, so they're lying snugly together, and Dustin can feel the searing hot line of Steve's cock pressed up against his own, and he thinks the sound he just made is probably most appropriately termed sobbing.

Steve's hand is on his cheek, petting his face gently as he asks, "Is it okay?"

Dustin can only gasp out a strangled, "Yes," and then press their mouths together again, because he just really needs to be kissing Steve right now. Steve kisses him back easily, keeps one hand gentle on Dustin's face and slides the other around to the small of his back, using the leverage to grind their hips together, and it's honestly the best thing Dustin has ever felt in his life.

Neither of them last long after that, both already close to the edge before they even started, overwhelmed by the friction, and the wet heat, and the rough slide of Steve's underwear between them. It's Steve that goes first, pressing up into Dustin and going taut and still, whining high pitched and sweet into Dustin's mouth as his cock twitches and he comes hard enough that Dustin can feel it spurting against his own dick. When he's finished, he collapses, slow and easy, and keeps kissing Dustin, reaching between them to wrap his fingers back around Dustin's cock as he does. His grip feels more slippery now, and when Dustin realizes that it's because he's got Steve's come on his dick, it's all he really needs. He comes sudden and hard, his whole body clenching. The force of it feels almost violent, and it punches little, broken sounds out of him as he breathes hard against Steve's mouth. Steve holds him through it, fingers just firm enough around his dick, hand soft and warm against his face, and it's the best orgasm Dustin's ever had.

It takes him a long time to recover afterwards, and Steve pulls gently at his support arm, letting him collapse down so they're lying together, Dustin draped over Steve's chest. He feels his eyes burning, and buries his face in Steve's neck, panting and trying hard not to start crying. Steve runs his clean hand through his hair, comforting and consoling, whispering reassuring things as Dustin tries to just breathe. When he finally manages to look up again, Steve is smiling at him, looking satiated and adoring, and the sight of him still makes Dustin's heart pick up an extra beat, even after all that. Dustin smiles back at him, slow and unbearably pleased. "You are fucking amazing," he says, lazy and warm, and then presses his mouth up against the underside of Steve's jaw.

Steve replies, "Thanks, Dusty, you too," and he sounds sincere and totally content, full of confidence and warmth in a way that makes Dustin's whole body feel somehow even better than before. It's everything he ever wants to hear in Steve's voice, everything he wants for Steve's life, and even if it's only temporary, Dustin thinks it's a start, and a foundation for them to build on. He thinks, pressing his smile into Steve's neck, desperately elated, that it's a foundation he will be happy to spend the rest of his life building on.


	14. Chapter 14

By the time winter break comes around, Dustin and Steve have fallen into a comfortable pattern, and everything is a lot easier. Steve still misses him enough that sometimes it's hard to breathe, or think, or move, but for the most part, it's been okay, and when the bad times happen, it's been easier to pull himself out of it, even if he can't reach Dustin right then. There are far fewer of those days now than at the start, too, and he thinks it's probably because he's much more comfortable asking for what he needs over the phone, and also because they see each other a lot more regularly now that everyone is settled in at school and there are fewer weekend responsibilities being shoved in Steve's lap. Still, he's looking forward to Dustin being home for winter break more than he's ever looked forward to anything in his life. They'd seen each other only briefly during Thanksgiving break, as Steve had been gone Thursday, and Dustin had returned to school Friday afternoon for an extra credit lab on Saturday, and the brevity of the visit had felt like the cruelest tease at the time. He's been distracted all day, to the point that the kids have been teasing him, but all he can think about is the fact that when he leaves today, he's going to the Hendersons' house and Dustin is going to _be there_.

He had wanted to go with Claudia to pick Dustin up, but can't afford to miss any days during the last stretch of the semester. There are too many things to take care of - conferences, and evaluations, and grades, and all the other things Steve hadn't really considered about being a teacher, even if it was only gym class - and the kids are all so rowdy and anxious for Christmas break that he would feel terrible pawning them off on some unsuspecting substitute, even for a day. So, he's a little distracted, and his kids are hounding him mercilessly for repeating himself, and for forgetting to give them instructions, and for being terrible at all the games, but it's okay, because they love him, and he's happy, and when he leaves today, it will be to go be together with his family for the first time in months.

When he does finally pull up to the Henderson house around four in the afternoon, Dustin is out the door and waiting for him in the grass before he can even kill the engine, and Steve can already feel himself grinning as he gets out. He hugs Dustin on his way to the door, walking into him and pausing just long enough for Dustin to hug him back before continuing on, arms still slung around his neck, because Dustin is barefoot and wearing a t shirt and it's below freezing outside. "You're gonna catch a cold, out here with no fucking shoes on," he says fondly, mouth pressed against Dustin's temple. Dustin just laughs and buries his face in Steve's neck, pressing his cold nose right up under his jaw, arms tight around his back as they stumble inside.

Claudia laughs delightedly when she sees them falling through the front door in a tangled heap, Steve barely able to keep them upright because they've both tripped on the door jamb. He grins at her over Dustin's shoulder and she lifts Tews's paw in a little wave as she says, in a high falsetto, "Hello Steve, thanks for saving Dusty from freezing to death."

"No problem, Tews. I'm pretty sure keeping him from dying is, like, my main job or something." He's laughing as he says it, starts cracking up even harder when Dustin pinches his neck and makes a noisy, affronted sound.

"God, even the cat is making fun of me," he says, mouth still pressed right up against Steve's neck.

Steve presses a kiss into his hair, grinning relentlessly, still not quite willing to let go of him. It feels right to be here, in this house, with Dustin in his arms and Claudia smiling beatifically at them, the sweet and lovely matriarch of their little family unit. It makes him feel a little misty eyed, and he has to swallow hard a few times just to clear the lump in his throat. Dustin notices, because he still has his face shoved there, and Steve feels his mouth press more firmly up against his jugular, the barest scrape of his teeth, and a quick flick of his tongue, warm and soothing.

When they do finally manage to make it past the front doorway, it's to settle on the couch in the living room and chat with Claudia for an hour or two before it's time to get started on dinner. Steve mostly just listens, content and lazy, as Dustin answers all of Claudia's questions, despite the fact that most of it is repeat information for everyone there. He tells her all about how well his finals went, and the extra studying he plans to do over the break to prepare for his next level of coding courses, even though Steve's sure they've already discussed all this at least once before. Dustin doesn't seem to mind, seems to find it endearing that his mom just wants to hear over and over again how well he's doing. Steve doesn't mind either, listening to Dustin telling her about all the things he's achieved in such a short time. It makes him proud, because Dustin has spent so long in a place that doesn't appreciate him, but now that he's off at college, he's showing everyone who's boss, even with so many people around him trying to bring him down.

When Claudia brings the conversation around to their plans for the break, Steve tells her that he doesn't have off until next Wednesday, is disappointed to tell her that he'll have a lot of work to bring home, filling out student evaluations and assigning grades, so he won't be able to spend too much time with them in the evenings until school lets out. She just smiles, a little conspiratorial, and says, "Well I'm sure Dusty will be happy to keep you company at your place until you have time to come over here."

He and Dustin both perk up at the same time, and Dustin beats him to the punch replying, "That's okay? I can stay with him?"

"Well, I'd like it if you came back every once in a while, obviously, but who am I to keep young love apart." She turns to Tews, tickling his tummy while he purrs, and drops into her babying voice as she continues, "Isn't that right, Tews? We want Dusty and Steve to have plenty of time together, don't we?"

Dustin is smiling that cheeky, megawatt smile of his when he turns to Steve and says, "Is it okay? I don't want to get in your way."

Steve, still a little surprised, just replies, "Yeah, of course," voice quiet with awe. He hadn't even considered that he might have to chance to bring Dustin home with him for the night, for more than a night, to have Dustin in his space, with him. _Domestic_ , his mind whispers, and he can feel his face getting hot thinking about it. "Yeah," he says again, and is pretty sure he sounds fucking stupid, but can't really fix it, because _holy shit_ , now that he's thinking about it, he kind of never wants to stop. They have had a little bit of practice, coexisting for two days at a time in Dustin's tiny dorm room when Steve visits, but it's not really the same, Steve thinks. It's not the same as Dustin in his house, making food in his kitchen, lounging on his couch, using his bathroom, sleeping next to him in _his bed_.

When he looks up, Dustin is looking at him shy and knowing, and Steve's heart speeds up, and his face goes even hotter, and he doesn't even want to look at Claudia, because he's already feeling exposed enough as it is. She saves him the embarrassment, though, and bustles off to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to say, "I've got to get started on dinner, so why don't you two decide what days you'd like to do that."

Then she's gone and they're just looking at each other, and Steve's heart is still pounding, and Dustin looks like his might be doing the same, until Steve huffs out a small, surprised laugh, and then Dustin is grinning and crawling over into his lap. "Kiss?" he asks, happy and warm, and Steve only nods, because Dustin's mouth is right there, and he'd much rather press their lips together than bother saying anything. It's a little awkward, because they're both still grinning like assholes, but it's also really fucking good.

When they finally do get around to actually trying to work out a schedule, they're both pretty adamant that Dustin should go with him tonight, because neither of them wants to wait, now that the idea is in their heads. Steve also thinks it makes sense for him to spend the weekend, so that they can actually spend some time together when Steve won't be working, and they can go from there. Neither of them wants to keep Dustin away from his mom the entire break, but he'll be home for three full weeks, so there should definitely be time to spend both places.

"Your mom is really amazing," Steve says, after everything is decided, mouth very close to Dustin's.

"Well, she did raise me, so don't sound too surprised."

Steve laughs and kisses him again, slow and easy, before replying, "Not surprised, just happy. I can't wait to take you home with me."

Dustin doesn't reply, only resumes the kiss, licks Steve's mouth open all lazy and soft, hands warm and heavy on his chest, thighs snug at his hips, because they're still sprawled together on the couch, Dustin in Steve's lap, comfortable as can be. They stay like that for a long time, a pleasant, relaxing heat building up in Steve's belly as they make out just for the sake of it. He's half hard in his jeans, and a little bit embarrassed when Claudia comes to fetch them to eat. He knows he must look ruffled and flushed, notices Dustin looks about the same, but she doesn't fuss about it, just interrupts them with that same fond calmness she always has about them, and then leaves to give them a minute to gather their wits before going to the table.

It's an altogether lovely evening after that. Dinner is comforting and delicious, just like it always is when Claudia cooks, and the conversation flows easily between the three of them. It feels like they've been doing this all their lives, like there isn't a time Steve can remember that they weren't a unit like this, a family of their own making. After dinner, Steve and Dustin clean up, because house rules say the cook never cleans up, and then they all sit around the coffee table playing cards. Steve loses spectacularly, because he always loses against Hendersons, and his chances against both of them are even worse, but he doesn't mind. It's almost more fun to lose, just to see how excited they are to win.

When it's starting to get late, and Steve realizes he needs to head home or he's not going to get his work done in time, Claudia shoos them off to pack Dustin's bag, wearing that sweet mom smile of hers. When they leave, she hugs them both, and stands in the doorway, waving as they get in the car. Before they shut the doors, she yells a cheeky, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Which makes Dustin simultaneously burst into laughter and groan in embarrassment. Steve just salutes her from the driver's seat, unable to stop smiling like a loon.

Dustin holds his hand for the entirety of the short drive back to Steve's apartment, and it feels right in a way that Steve isn't yet used to things feeling in his life. For the first time in a long time, it feels like he's really coming home.


	15. Chapter 15

Dustin has been exploring Steve's apartment, basically snooping around with Steve's blessing ("It's as good as yours, too. Go nuts," he'd said, and Dustin had beamed and felt utterly delighted at the implication) for about half an hour now, looking for any little detail, enjoying any insight he can have into Steve's every day life. It's not a very big place, but it's nice, he thinks, and Steve keeps it tidy and clean. There aren't a lot of personal touches, Dustin notices, but he thinks that's probably because Steve hasn't had much time here yet. Also, it's the first place he's ever really had to himself. His first apartment during college had basically been co-opted by Billy's toxic presence from the start, and Steve's room at his parents has always obviously been not entirely his. Dustin is amused to note that, in this place, the curtains _do not_ match the wallpaper. If he thinks about it, it seems likely that having all the control over his space must be quite an adjustment for Steve to be making, and Dustin thinks it's fair that he's taking it little by little.

Steve's oven mitts, Dustin notices, are shaped like bear faces, ears and all, and Dustin is so endeared that he actually has to sit down for a minute to recover. On the refrigerator, under magnets shaped like various sports paraphernalia, Steve has a few pictures, including one of Tews, one of Steve with Dustin's mom, and a copy of the same Polaroid that Dustin keeps pinned to a cork board over his desk at school, of them dancing together the night of Dustin's 8th grade Snow Ball. There are more pictures of Dustin scattered around the house, most of them a lot more recent, taken by Dustin's mom, or by Steve himself on various occasions. Dustin is more pleased than he cares to admit knowing that Steve likes him enough to keep pictures around. He realizes it's not exactly new information, but seeing the proof of just how sentimental Steve is about them, especially when he has almost nothing else to personalize his place, makes Dustin happy.

When he's finally finished with his snooping, he wanders back to the bedroom and has to lean against the door frame for a minute, because his knees are a little bit weak at the sight. Steve is sitting on the right side of the bed, papers spread around him in messy looking piles, an old text book in his lap to bear down on when he needs to write. He's only got the bedside lamp on and it casts a warm glow over him that makes him look especially cozy. He's in his pajamas, just a tshirt and some flannel pants, and his reading glasses have slid almost to the tip of his nose as he concentrates. He has a forgotten pen tucked behind his left ear, and has the end of the one he's actually holding stuck in his mouth while he thinks, browsing through a notebook filled with his messy scrawl. Dustin knows he's been keeping notes on each of his students, so that he can give appropriate feedback and won't have trouble remembering what to say about anyone, so he presumes Steve is reviewing them before filling everything out. While Dustin watches, Steve makes a thoughtful noise, pushes his glasses up his nose and starts writing intently, moving slowly to keep his letters tidy and legible, because his usual handwriting is kind of fucking terrible.

Dustin watches him for a long time, unwilling to announce himself, too enamored of the sight of Steve working carefully, dedicated completely to making sure each kid gets the attention and feedback they're due, making sure each form is perfectly readable and clear for the parents. It makes everything in Dustin _ache_ , because Steve is made for this. Despite everything he's been through, he's built almost entirely of compassion, fueled by the desire to protect people and foster happiness and safety. In the past, his only outlets for it have been risking his life in dire, seemingly insurmountable situations, or throwing himself blindly into the task of taking care of Dustin and the rest of the party afterwards, despite being catastrophically in need of help himself. Now, though, he's finally on a trajectory that lets him use all of that benevolence is way that's _safe_ for him, in a way that doesn't just show up when lives are in danger, in a way that's long lasting and can positively affect a lot of people's lives. It sort of makes Dustin want to cry over how happy he feels, to know that Steve is here, after everything, attentively writing evaluations for each and every student, even though he has over a hundred kids, supporting them and being appreciated for his efforts. It's everything Steve deserves, and, more importantly, he seems happy doing it - has seemed so since the day he started shadowing classes to see if maybe he could be right for the job.

When Steve does finally look up, he startles, enough to dislodge a stack of papers to the floor, and then laughs, quiet and a little embarrassed and says, "Holy shit, man. Warn a guy."

Dustin feels himself go all soft and gooey, a little chagrined, but mostly just incredibly, unbearably fond. "Sorry. I was distracted."

Steve just smiles a little as he leans over the side of the bed to retrieve his fallen papers, and even in the dim light, it's obvious how red his face is. Dustin loves it, and is fucking eternally grateful that even after a year, Steve still blushes like that at the slightest hint of affection. He is painfully shy, and sweet like no one else Dustin knows; sensitive in all the best ways, emotionally and physically, and willing to let Dustin see it, even though it makes him vulnerable. He's stacking his papers back up now, meticulously re-sorting them to make sure they all end up in the correct pile again, and Dustin has to suppress the urge to make some sort of loud, desperate sound because he's got so much affection effervescing inside of him and no other outlet to deal with it. Instead he just apologizes again, and continues, "Is it okay if I sit next to you and study?"

Steve's head snaps up, and his eyes are wide (even wider thanks to those glasses, framing his face just right, magnifying his pretty doe eyes), his mouth dropped open a little in surprise, but he looks pleased - like maybe he forgot that Dustin being in his house meant Dustin being near him, and this is a pleasant, unexpected reminder. It doesn't help the screaming fond feeling at all, but Dustin can't bring himself to mind. Steve clears his papers off the left side of the bed, reorganizing them to give Dustin room and says, sounding a little dazed, "Yeah, of course."

It's probably the best thing that's ever happened to Dustin in his entire life. His focus is absolutely shot to shit, and he ends up just reading the same paragraph over and over again, but it's worth it, just to be able to look over and see Steve there, still concentrating, but smiling now, and occasionally looking over at Dustin as well. When they catch each other staring, they both laugh, quiet and embarrassed, but too happy to be bothered. Dustin knows that part of the wonder is the novelty of it all, knows that if they did this every night for a while, eventually it would just fade into comfortable normality, but the prospect of that is almost more exciting than the moment itself. He _wants_ this to be so normal that he doesn't even bat an eye. He wants to spend every night with Steve until he's fucking dead, and he doesn't even care if this is all they do, because there's something perilously satisfying about sharing these types of things with Steve - the things that just happen, because it's life, and not because they're in a relationship; things that are simply made more enjoyable because the person next to him is someone he cares about so much.

When Steve is finally finished for the night, and has put everything in its place so he can pick it up again tomorrow, he turns to Dustin, who has still only read a single paragraph, even though it's been over an hour, and says shyly, "Can we kiss, now?"

Dustin huffs out a small laugh and closes his book with a loud snap. "Yeah, that would be good," he replies, and then lets Steve pull him across the bed and onto his lap. It's nice, Dustin thinks, to be doing this in Steve's bed, where there's plenty of room for both of them, and no need to worry about who might hear if either of them gets noisy. He hopes it will make Steve feel safer, and that it will take some of the edge off for him, so that he can just enjoy himself, without so much panic and negative desperation. He certainly seems relaxed, his body loose, his hands soft against Dustin's skin where they've slipped under his shirt. He likes to pet Dustin's sides, to put his hands on Dustin's waist, where he's wider than a lot of people, or to run his hand's over Dustin's stomach, sweet and gentle.

At first Dustin had been self conscious, because he knows he doesn't have a stellar figure, knows that Steve is, objectively very far out of his league physically, but Steve always looks at him with a little bit of wonder, like he's surprised he's allowed to touch Dustin. His hands are always so reverent, and he always says things, when he's lost in the moment, as honest as he ever could be, that make Dustin blush, and think maybe he's okay after all, even if he doesn't have a body like Steve's. Now, with Dustin in his lap, knees by Steve's hips, tongue in his mouth, is no different. Steve is running his hands over Dustin's sides, occasionally moving over his chest, catching his nipples with barely there touches that make Dustin groan and squirm. He feels Steve smiling into the kiss and knows it's on purpose, but he can't find it in himself to be annoyed. He likes it too much, is too pleased that Steve feels confident and coherent enough to tease him, even as he's sort of melting into Dustin, making all kinds of little, wounded noises into the kiss.

It's not long until Steve is hard, erection tenting the front of his loose pants, body gone a little tighter, hands pressed into Dustin's hips hot and firm like a brand. Dustin is hard too, because he's always hard when Steve starts to get needy, his control slipping away in the face of all his want. Dustin reaches behind himself to brace a hand on Steve's thigh, briefly lamenting the awkward positional disadvantage of sitting in Steve's lap this way when he wants to put his hands where Steve likes them most. It's uncomfortable and Dustin reluctantly breaks the kiss, says right up against Steve's mouth, "Do you want to lay down, sweetheart? So I can touch you?"

Steve whimpers, presses up into Dustin and kisses him again, a little bitey and desperate before mumbling a shy, embarrassed, "Yeah, please."

Dustin finds himself grateful for the extra space in the bed again, because adjusting is easy, and Steve is able to sprawl the way he wants to, without worrying about smashing his knee on the wall or going off the side. Dustin is able push Steve's legs open wider than usual, and it gives him better leverage to kiss Steve at the same time, a better angle to run his hands up the insides of Steve's thighs until he's shaking, whining into Dustin's mouth as he arches into the touches. Steve's hands are back under Dustin's shirt, and now he's being a little more obvious with his intentions, pressing his thumbs gently against Dustin's nipples, rubbing lightly, because he knows they're sensitive, knows that even the barest touch is enough to make Dustin go all fuzzy and hot. He's arching his hips up, too, not quite grinding their erections together, but enough that the pressure is getting to Dustin and he has to pull away for a second to compose himself.

He rests his forehead against Steve's collarbone, breathing hard, and says, somewhat strangled, "Sorry, I just need a second." He feels Steve nuzzle at his temple as he moves his hands to Dustin's sides, hears him make an agreeable little hum, and tries to breathe more slowly.

Steve takes the opportunity to start babbling in his ear, voice barely above a whisper. He's not entirely coherent, and a lot of his words are slurring together into a sort of adoring drone, but Dustin can still pick out things like, "You're so good to me, Dusty," and "Love the way you kiss me," and, "You're so fucking pretty," and it's honestly not making it much easier for him to pull himself together. It doesn't help that Steve is painfully beautiful, even with his clothes still on. His t shirt has gotten pushed up just enough for Dustin to see a pretty, freckled strip of skin. His pants are thin enough that Dustin can see where his dick is resting against his hip, and there's a wet spot that makes Dustin's mouth go totally dry, and then flood with saliva a second later. He wants to put his tongue there, to taste the wetness Steve has left on his clothes, and then to peel him out of them and taste his skin.

He closes his eyes, turns his face a little more into Steve's neck and licks at the skin there instead, trying to get the image out of his head before it overwhelms him. It sort of works, in that he always loves the taste of Steve's skin. Tonight he's a little salty from his long day and no shower yet, and Dustin hears himself moan a little tasting it. It surprises Steve enough that he stops talking rather abruptly and whimpers in response. Dustin leaves his mouth there, letting his teeth scrape just a bit at the sensitive skin, then following up with his tongue again, over and over while Steve squirms and whines underneath him.

It's a fair distraction, but still Dustin can't quite get his mind to stray away from the image of Steve's dick in his mouth. He hears himself make a frustrated, desperate kind of sound, and then Steve's hands are out of his shirt, one at the back of his neck, and the other at his hip, over his clothes. He sounds worried when he asks, "Dusty, are you okay?"

Dustin can't help but laugh at himself, because this is fucking ridiculous. "Yeah," he says, muffled against Steve's collar. "I'm okay." He sits back a little, enough that he can look at Steve, and says, rueful and self-deprecating, "I can't stop thinking about sucking you off." He shrugs a little, feeling kind of helpless and stupid, then adds a sincere, "Sorry."

Steve eyes have gone wide, and his mouth his hanging open a little bit, his hands clenched tight against Dustin's body. He looks lost, and a little bit confused, but not unhappy, Dustin thinks. Dustin puts a hand on Steve's face, runs his thumb softly over the arch of his cheek, and is pleased when Steve nuzzles into it, his expression going a little looser. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't mean to stress you out. It's not a big deal. Sometimes, I just think about it a lot. It doesn't mean we have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Steve makes a sound halfway between disagreement and a moan, turns to press his mouth up against Dustin's palm, and then says directly into his hand, "I'm okay. I was just surprised." He looks up at Dustin, half hidden behind his hair falling in his face and says, quiet and shy, "No one has ever done that for me before."

Dustin has to sit up a little more at that, taken off guard and in need of firmer balance. "For real?" he says, and it comes out a little more incredulous than he'd intended.

Steve shrugs. "Yeah. I guess high school girls aren't actually that into it, and I never wanted to do stuff that they weren't into." He looks embarrassed, expression a little closed off, face very red.

Dustin feels bad immediately, but has no idea what to say to make Steve feel better. He ends up blurting out the first thing that comes through his head, which is, "But you have such a nice dick, who wouldn't want to suck it?" He cringes immediately, can feel his face going hot, and has to fight the urge to verbally deprecate himself, because _really_?

But then Steve is smiling again, laughing quietly. "Your face, Dusty, oh my god."

They're both embarrassed right now, Dustin realizes, but it's okay, because he's with Steve, and that takes most of the edge off. It feels good to look away and play at sulking when he replies, "I meant to say something cool and eloquent."

Steve's hands are warm and gentle, cupping Dustin's face, nudging him back towards eye contact. "You're sweet," Steve says, tone serious. "And if you want to put my dick in your mouth, I can't make any promises on how it'll go, but we can try it."

Dustin feels a thrill of heat skitter through him at that, tries not to react physically, but ends up clenching up anyways. Still, it's not exactly a rousing endorsement, and it's not worth it if Steve isn't sure. "Steve, we don't have to. I don't want to do anything you're not comfortable with."

Steve smiles at him. "No, I want to," he replies, and sounds sure enough. "I just...don't know how I'll be with stuff like this, that I haven't done before." His expression takes on a sad, sharp edge, but he's still smiling, encouraging despite everything. "I trust you. I want to try things with you."

It makes Dustin feel warm all over, in a kind of euphoric, tender, almost heartbroken sort of way. It's everything he wants from Steve, but at the same time, everything in him wishes that Steve had never been made fragile this way in the first place, and all he can do in response is kiss him, soft and gentle. He wishes, now, that he were more articulate, so that he could express in words how important Steve is to him; so that he could let Steve know without a doubt that he knows what kind of gift this is. Instead Dustin kisses him exactly how he likes it, touches him in all the right spots, as gently as he can, trying to telegraph everything he feels into his actions. He thinks Steve understands, if the way he goes pliant and loose, or the way he makes those quiet, hungry, needy little noises mean anything.

Eventually, after several long minutes of making out, Steve's moans turn a little desperate again, and Dustin asks him one more time if he's sure before peeling him out of his pants, and then his underwear. Dustin leaves Steve's shirt on, but takes his own off, because Steve is grasping at the hem, like he wants to do it himself but doesn't want to ask, and Dustin has learned to listen to Steve's body language at times like these, because he has trouble asking for what he wants, and probably always will. Then he settles between Steve's legs, and it's a little awkward, because they're both lying down, but Dustin thinks Steve must not mind the view, because once he's settled, Steve whimpers, soft and wounded, his dick twitching prettily against his stomach.

Steve is honestly beautiful like this, laid out in front of Dustin, legs spread open enough to make room between them. His face is so pretty it hurts to look at him, cheeks splattered with bright red, his big eyes even darker than usual, pupils blown wide, and his mouth swollen and almost sore looking from being kissed, and then caught under Steve's teeth as he bites his lip nervously. His shirt is rucked up around his armpits, and his chest and belly are flushed a delicate, charming pink, accentuating his cute little nipples, peaked in the cold air. Dustin wants to lick them, too, he realizes, but stores that thought away for later.

Steve's dick is the prettiest thing of all, laying full and thick against his soft, flat belly. It's bigger than most, Dustin thinks, but perfectly proportioned on Steve's body, the head of it resting just above his navel, tantalizingly red, and already slick with precum. It makes Dustin's mouth water a little just looking at it, but he wants to do this right for Steve, to give him a good experience, as much as he's able, having never done this before on a non-fruit object.

He starts off by pressing his mouth into the crease of Steve's thigh, letting his teeth drag a little over the sensitive skin, following it up with his tongue when Steve moans, long and deep and drops his leg further, to give Dustin better access. Dustin continues like that for a long time, following the path his hands usually take, laying down kisses, and soft, nipping bites on each of his thighs until Steve is trembling and keening, hands fisted in the covers tight enough that his knuckles have gone white. When Dustin stops, Steve makes a broken, painful sound of protest, but Dustin just presses a chaste kiss against the point of his hip and reaches out to touch his hand. He doesn't want Steve so tense, doesn't want him on edge in a way that might hurt, and he thinks, if he can just get him to loosen his grip and take a deep breath, he'll enjoy things a little more.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks when Steve finally turns his hand to lace their fingers together.

Steve lets out a hard, shuddering breath and says, "Yeah. I'm okay. It's good."

Dustin doesn't move for a little while, resting his cheek on Steve's hip, holding his hand and petting his stomach gently with the other hand, careful not to stray too close to his cock. He's not trying to tease. "You're so pretty, baby," he murmurs, saying the words into Steve's skin, as much for himself as for Steve. "I'm gonna take good care of you."

Steve's fingers go a little tighter around Dustin's hand and he says, breathy and sweet, "I know Dusty." He squeezes Dustin's hand again, and then lets out a sound that could almost be a laugh. "Jesus you look good right now. I don't think it's gonna last very long."

That perks Dustin up a little, takes him out of the sort of detached comfort mode he'd gone into, waiting for Steve to acclimate and relax. He leaves his left hand in Steve's grip, but cautiously lifts his right hand and lays it lightly over Steve's dick, pressing the heel of his palm gently against the base and letting his fingers rest against the shaft. Steve flinches up into the touch with a gasp, and Dustin can't help but notice how _hot_ the skin here is. Steve is warm all over, but touching him here is almost like pressing his hand against hot coals in comparison, and it makes Dustin want it in his mouth even more.

He shifts his grip so that he's actually holding Steve now, and runs his hand up, pressing his thumb firmly into the slit when he gets there. Steve's hips buck again and his grip on Dustin's hand has gone bruisingly tight.

"Dusty, please."

It's whisper quiet, and more than a little desperate sounding, and it makes Dustin's cock twitch in his jeans just from the sound of it. He shifts a little then, to put himself at a better angle, then pauses, and looks back up at Steve's face. "Um, if you get there," he says, shaky and deep, "you can come in my mouth, okay?" He wants Steve to know beforehand, so that he won't freak out if it comes to that, so that it won't ruin the moment for him. "I want you to," he adds, and can't even be embarrassed by how turned on he sounds.

Steve's dick jerks in Dustin's hand, and he sounds absolutely wrecked when says, "Holy shit.” He lets out another hard, jittery breath. “Okay, yeah."

Dustin has a small moment of nerves, then, where he realizes very suddenly that, wow, he really _hasn't done this before_ , but Steve is still squeezing his hand like his life depends on it, and his dick is so pretty that Dustin is genuinely unsure whether he's going to come in his pants just from sucking it, and the _want_ he's feeling is so overwhelming that it sort of pushes the nerves out of the way. It makes it easy to put his hand on Steve's hip and hold him down as Dustin runs his tongue up the length of his dick, slow and easy. The taste is clean, if a little salty, just like the rest of Steve's skin, but the smell here is stronger, an almost overwhelming mix of arousal and sweat that makes Dustin's pulse hammer and heat coil tight in his belly.

When he pushes his tongue into the slit, Steve rises up hard against his restraining hand, and his thighs go tight around Dustin's sides as he keens loud and shameless. Dustin licks there a few times, pressing firmly with the tip of his tongue, reveling in the taste of the sticky moisture that's gathered there, salty and little bit tangy. He honestly wants nothing more than to have it coating his mouth, cloying and delicious, knowing that it's because Steve is so turned on. He moans a little and tries very hard not to grind his hips into the mattress, worried that he'll come if he lets himself have any friction at all.

Instead he takes the head of Steve's dick fully in his mouth, concentrating hard on covering his teeth, still pressing his tongue rhythmically into the slit. He sucks a little, but doesn't take any more for a moment, waiting for Steve's agonized sobbing to fade back into those little keening whimpers that tell Dustin he's ready for more. Then, he lets himself drop down further, keeping his teeth covered and focusing on letting his throat open up against the slow, steady pressure. He's practiced this more than a few times, but never on something quite as big as Steve, and he had wondered if he'd really be able to take him all the way. He's pretty proud of himself when his nose touches Steve's skin, and he stays there, swallowing hard around Steve's dick for a few seconds before drawing back off, just as slowly, stopping when it's just the head in his mouth again to give it more focused attention.

Steve, is falling apart completely. His grip on Dustin's hand is tight enough that the bones feel like they're grinding together, and his other hand is scrabbling desperately at Dustin's shoulder, nails digging in enough to be felt, but not to hurt. It's good, Dustin thinks, and then he moans as Steve's dick twitches and more precum slides over his tongue. He goes down again, a little faster this time, and nearly chokes for his negligence, but manages to recover before anything embarrassing happens. Steve squeezes his shoulder savagely, but the pain just makes Dustin feel even more on edge, like if he touches himself at all he'll come immediately.

He looks up as he draws off again, and realizes Steve is watching him, mesmerized and a little bit in awe. It tears another groan out of him, and he has to break eye contact and go down again or he thinks he might actually go crazy. It gets easier as he continues, to let his throat open up, to swallow around Steve without even thinking or trying as his muscles get used to the feeling. It gives him more presence of mind to focus on the sounds Steve is making, and on the way his body is moving in sudden starts, twitching and arching into Dustin, even though he's pinned to the bed. His thighs are trembling hard where they're tucked against Dustin's sides, and Dustin really wishes he had more hands so that he could pet him there, could press his palms against the shaking muscles to soothe him and make him feel even better all at once. Instead he just hums appreciatively and lets his thumbs rub gently at the back of Steve's tense hand, the dip of his hip. He uses his tongue as best he can to enhance the feeling as he moves. He doesn't have a free hand to follow the path of his mouth, so he feels like he has to take Steve all the way to the base each time to compensate. Next time, he thinks, and tries not to lose it at the idea that he might get to do this again, he wants to hold Steve's balls in his hand, rolling them gently as he sucks, to see if Steve likes it.

Dustin notices when Steve starts going even more tense, digging his heels into the mattress, his legs closing tight enough that Dustin can feel his knees digging into his ribs, clenched up and so taut that Dustin can feel a muscle fluttering relentlessly in his hip. "Dusty," Steve moans a second later, long and drawn out, syllables slurred together. "'M gonna come."

Dustin can't quite keep from moaning in response, turned on and desperate for the taste of Steve's come in his mouth. He has the presence of mind to draw off a little, so it's just the head in his mouth, and then he presses his tongue into the slit and Steve is coming with a high, sharp cry. The taste is strong, salty and bitter, and a million times more satisfying than the clear, mild precum had been. Dustin does actually have to let go of Steve's hip to press at his own dick, hard and unforgiving, trying to take the edge off and keep from coming in his pants, but Steve is far enough gone that his hips stay where they are and Dustin doesn't choke. He tries to let it fill his mouth without swallowing, but eventually reflex kicks in and he moans again as the taste hits the back of his tongue and goes even more intense.

Steve is sobbing, breath hitching, punching several high pitched, jagged whines out of him. His hand is on Dustin's cheek now, instead of his shoulder, soft and warm, controlled where every other part of him is tense, and Dustin leans into a little as he gently sucks until Steve is finished. It takes him a long time, because Steve always comes a lot, but when he's finished, Dustin draws away reverently, holding the last bit of come on his tongue while Steve pets his face, gentle and amazed. Then Steve's thumb is at his lips, pressing just slightly against a spot that feels a little sore, and Dustin drops his mouth open, still trying to hold the come there, curling his tongue around it like it's precious and he doesn't want to lose a drop of it.

Steve groans, dips his thumb in to touch the little puddle of liquid, and then says, raspy and desperate, "Fuck, Dusty, come here."

Dustin goes without hesitation, because Steve asked, and because he's so turned on he can barely see straight, much less form the necessary train of thought to refuse. He crawls up into Steve's lap and lets Steve kiss him, lets Steve lick into his mouth and taste the last bit of his own come, until they're sharing it, and Dustin is moaning, high pitched enough that it could almost be considered whining, and Steve is whimpering in reply. Then Steve's hands are scrabbling at Dustin's fly, opening it pretty quickly considering how graceless it is, and he's pulling Dustin's underwear out of the way and wrapping his hand warm and firm around Dustin's dick, his thumb pressed sloppily into the slit, and Dustin is coming before he can even do anything else. Steve kisses him through it, lets him rut up into his hand, holds him steady and firm while Dustin comes so hard he thinks he might actually be crying, and then when it's over, he pulls back enough to lick Dustin's come off his fingers, slow and sure, nuzzling gently at Dustin's wet cheeks as he does it.

They kiss for a long time after that, slow and lazy, both shaking a little because they're coming down so hard. Dustin keeps his hands at Steve's neck, not wanting to overstimulate him, and Steve wraps his arms around Dustin's waist, hands spread warm and firm over his ass, comforting, not teasing. When they finally do manage to calm down, both of them breathing normally, neither of them trembling any more, Steve pulls away just enough to make room for words, forehead resting gently against Dustin's and says gravely, "Thank you."

Dustin doesn't really know how to respond, because, technically, this was his fantasy, so he just says, equally serious, "Pretty sure I should be thanking you, to be honest."

That earns him a smile, and a quick, bitey kiss, and then Steve goes solemn again. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that for you. He used to make me..." He trails off, sounding agonized and full of regret, and it makes Dustin want to start crying all over again as sadness comes roaring through him, razing everything in its path.

He puts his hands on Steve's face, makes sure he's looking right in his eyes and replies, "It's okay, Steve. I don't expect anything from you. I just want you to feel safe when you're with me."

Steve's face crumples even further at that, and his eyes look shiny and wet. "Thank you," he says again, a little watery around the edges. "You're really good to me. I love you."

Dustin kisses his forehead, as soft as he can manage, and then his cheeks, and then his mouth. "I love you, too," he says against Steve's lips, devout and desperately honest, and wishes he could take all of Steve's pain away just by kissing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Steve needs reading glasses at a young age because of the head trauma. In addition to migraines, it affected his sight.


	16. Chapter 16

Steve's mother calls early Sunday afternoon to tell him when to show up for Christmas Eve dinner, and it goes about as well as Steve ever expects conversations with his parents to go anymore. He's laughing when he answers, because Dustin has just made an incredibly bad pun, and looks so proud of himself Steve can't help it, but it dies off quickly enough when he hears his mother's voice on the other end, tart and clipped. "Steve, it's your mother. What are you doing?"

Steve feels like all the life drains out of him in an instant, and Dustin immediately looks worried, crosses the room from where he'd been rummaging through his bag and offers his hand to Steve. He takes it without thinking, and leans forward to rest his forehead against Dustin's hip. "Nothing, Mom. What's up?" He thinks he's done a fairly good job of not sounding utterly morose at merely the prospect of speaking to her, but he can't really be sure.

Her tone is even more severe when she replies, "I'm calling about Christmas Eve dinner. Of course, you'll be coming. We'll be starting at 6pm sharp."

Steve sighs heavily. "I think I already have plans for the evening," he says, slow and deliberate, even though he knows he's going to have to give in if he wants any sort of peace in his life. He still feels the need to put up a token resistance, just to confirm that he is, in fact, still the main arbiter of his own fate.

"What plans might those be?" she snips back, and he can imagine with vivid clarity her pinched expression, her mouth drawn down in a tight line, her eyes barely open under her severe, downturned brows.

"Mom, you know who I'm spending the time with," he says, exasperated.

He can hear her sniffing archly on the other end of the line as Dustin starts petting him gently, rubbing at his temple and then carding fingers delicately through his hair. He leans into the touch gratefully as his mother responds, "Yes, well, if it's so important to you to spend Christmas Eve with that boy, then you'll just have to bring him along. This is the only family time we're asking for, and you _will_ be there."

Steve knows she's being facetious about him bringing Dustin, knows that she doesn't mean it as an actual invitation, but suddenly, he's so full of spite and anger that he looks up at Dustin and says, as sweetly as he can manage, "My mother would like to invite you to Christmas Eve dinner. Are you free to join us?"

"Steve!" She shrieks, loud enough that Dustin can hear it, and Steve revels as a slow smirk spreads over Dustin's features. "What are you doing?" She continues, more quietly, but still full of rage.

"It's important to me," he says, dead pan, "that I spend Christmas Eve with him. So I'll just have to bring him along. It would be rude to rescind the invitation, now." His mother is well and truly floundering, now, rendered totally incoherent by her shock and enmity, and Steve just smiles ruthlessly up at Dustin and says directly into the mouthpiece, "What do you think, Dusty? Will you be able to join us?"

Dustin touches his face, soft and sweet, like he can tell that Steve is really hurting right now, and says sincerely, "Yeah, of course. I'm sure my mom won't mind having Christmas Eve brunch or something instead. Please ask your mom if there's anything I can bring to help out."

Steve's smile goes painful and sad, and he hates how angry and vindictive he feels when his parents are involved, but is unable to let it all go, unable to forget how they shamed him for what happened with Billy, how they had such confidence that he would fail in his career choice, how even now, they treat him mostly as a mistake that needs correcting, that should simply be tolerated until correction can be enforced. He hides his face in Dustin's hip again, wrapping an arm around his waist and hanging on desperately to the back of his shirt as he says, "Dustin would like to know if there's anything he can bring."

His mother's voice is pure venom when she replies, "A bottle of wine is always acceptable."

It makes Steve bristle, furious all over again, because his parents have always disliked Dustin and his mother for no justifiable reason, always been bitter and angry about their support of Steve when he needed it most and they had deemed him unworthy. "He's only eighteen," he grits out, baring his teeth at the floor, wishing he had some sort of outlet for his animosity. "He can't buy wine."

Dustin hugs him tighter then, arms draped protectively over Steve's shoulders, holding him close enough that it almost muffles the phone. "Well then, you can tell him to just bring himself. Of course, your father and I will look forward to getting to know your _friend_ over dinner." She spits the word 'friend' like it means something completely different, like she knows exactly what they are to each other, and Steve full on flinches at the sound of it. Images skitter through his mind of his parents using the information against him, telling the school and getting him fired, keeping him from getting any other job they don't approve of in the future, putting him back under their thumbs permanently, because they just know he's an irredeemable fuck up.

It's hard for him to breathe, and his voice doesn't sound very steady when he finally replies, "Great, looking forward to it. See you then." He hangs up before she can reply, because he can feel a panic attack crawling up inside of him, clawing its way through his lungs, squeezing around his heart until it feels like his whole chest is too full, ready to burst open just so he can get a single good breath. He drops the phone on the floor, is vaguely aware of the fact that he's lucky it misses Dustin's foot, and then he's full on hyperventilating, face pressed tight into Dustin's stomach, breath searing hot against his own mouth.

Dustin holds him, gentle but firm, one hand running soothingly through Steve's hair as he talks, calm and sure, giving Steve something to focus on. "It's okay," he says, just loud enough to be heard over the raucous sound of Steve's breathing. "Try to breathe with me, sweetheart. You can feel me breathing right where you are. Focus on that, and try to go along with it. In and out. Slow and steady. In and out."

Steve does as he's told, tries very hard to find the movement of Dustin's chest, to focus on that, and the sound of his voice, instead of the desperate, suffocating feeling of existing in his own body. It takes him several minutes of Dustin's calm, insistent talking to finally come down, and when he does, he can already feel the beginning of a migraine building, his vision going blurry and neon around the edges, his eyeballs feeling too big for his skull. He forces himself to take a few more deep breaths, and when he's confident the panic won't ramp up again, he says carefully, "Can you get me some migraine medicine?"

He feels Dustin kiss the top of his head before replying, "Yeah, of course. Sit tight, babe."

He stays where he is, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands curled tight in the sheets, and waits as Dustin goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, and then digs the pills out of the bedside drawer. He hands them to Steve, watches as he swallows them and drinks as much of the water as he can stomach, then takes the glass and puts it on the bedside table. Then he kneels in front of Steve, hands on his knees, looking up to meet his eyes. "What do you need?" he asks, calm and serious.

Steve shrugs, helpless and unsure, doesn't want to have to say he doesn't know, because he thinks he might break down if he does. Dustin, bless him, seems to understand, just like he always does. He takes Steve's hands in his, gently prying his fingers out of the sheets, and holds them delicately, rubbing his thumbs over Steve's knuckles until Steve relaxes a little.

"Do you want to come stay with me and my mom for a day or two? I know you have work, but we can take care of you. Make it a little easier?"

Steve thinks about it for a minute, even though he already knows he's going to say yes. There aren't many cons to staying at Claudia's. Dustin's bed is smaller than his, but they practically sleep on top of each other anyways, curled up as close as they can get, Dustin plastered along his back to make him feel safe. He knows they'll respect the fact that he still needs to work, too, and thinks it will be nice to have people around who care about him, to make sure he's feeling alright, if the migraine doesn't go away in a few days. He nods slowly, and has to fight the urge to feel guilty when he says, "Yeah, that would be good."

Dustin smiles sweetly at him, cups one of his hands around Steve's jaw, thumb trailing gently over his cheek, soothing and so _nice_ it makes Steve want to cry. He slides off the bed a little, and when Dustin realizes what he's doing and makes room, collapses into Dustin's lap, burying his face in his neck and wrapping his arms tightly around him. He's trying really hard not to cry, but Dustin's hands are running over his spine almost as soon as he's settled, and he's murmuring comforting nonsense, like he has nothing better to do than let Steve crawl into his arms crying, and it's a little too much for Steve to handle.

He cries harder than he thought he would; harder than he thinks an invitation to Christmas Eve dinner and a passive aggressive insult about his boyfriend really warrant, but at the same time, he's _so fucking afraid_ of what his parents are capable of, what they'd be willing to do, that even little things like this feel like overtly sinister power plays, meant only to show Steve who's really in charge. Never mind the absolute crushing weight of guilt he has, knowing that he's asking Dustin to come home to him just to force him back in the closet. Dustin is doing so well at school, is holding his head high, unwilling to be ashamed of who he is, even if it's difficult, or even dangerous sometimes, but Steve is here, asking him to hide again, just for his sake. Just because he's afraid of what would happen if a small town found out that it wasn't just Billy's violence that made him take dick. Just because he's afraid of what his parents would do with the information if they ever had confirmation.

He sobs openly into Dustin's neck, tries to apologize, over and over, to explain that he knows how shit he is for putting him back in the closet, how he knows how much Dustin does for him, and how little he gives in return. Dustin won't have it, though, and his voice takes on an authoritative edge that brooks no argument when he says, "Shut the fuck up. I'd be dead without you. You make me so happy, it's kind of disgusting, and I'd rather spend the rest of my life in the fucking closet than lose you for even, like, a minute." He hugs Steve even tighter, and almost sounds angry, voice wavering a bit when he continues, "I fucking love you, and I don't let anyone talk shit about the people I love, so shut the fuck up."

It's kind of a wonder that it makes Steve feel better, considering how harsh it is on the surface, but Steve knows that Dustin is angry for him, not at him, and that he's saying it this way because he cares so much he can't figure out a better way to put it. He realizes, now, that Dustin is crying a little, too, a few rogue tears escaping to run down the side of his nose, the shakiness in his voice probably coming as much from holding back tears as from his anger. "Dusty," he says, quiet and choked, lifting a hand to catch the tears with his fingers, wiping them away as gently as he can. "You're fucking incredible."

It makes Dustin laugh, surprised at the compliment, and he accepts the out to break the tension even more by replying sarcastically, "I know, I'm fucking awesome."

Steve smiles, breath still hitching a little, nose stuffed up beyond belief, but feeling like maybe the worst of it is over. "I love you," he says, because he thinks Dustin should hear it right now. He thinks Dustin should hear it every day, all day, but especially right now, because he always knows what Steve needs, or at least, always goes to the mat trying to figure it out, and Steve honestly isn't sure if he'd still be a real person after everything that happened if it weren't for Dustin. "I think I'd be dead without you, too," he says, halfway between gravity and wonder.

Dustin just looks at him, a little bit of horror playing over his face and says, "Jesus, fuck, Steve. I wish I could take it all away."

"You do enough," he replies, without hesitation. "You did enough. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You and your mom." He touches Dustin's mouth with his thumb, pressing lightly at his lower lip as he continues, "All _this_ aside, you gave me a family. A _real_ family."

Dustin looks shattered, and his voice cracks open over Steve's name when he says it, like it's the most precious word in the world. And then he says, "I wish I could fucking marry you," all sincere and heartbroken, like maybe he thinks about it a lot. His eyes go wide a second later, his expression exposed and embarrassed, and Steve realizes he _does_ think about it a lot, because that's the face Dustin makes when he blurts something out without meaning to, and he only ever does that with shit he thinks about a lot.

Steve kisses him before he can freak out any more, presses their mouths together and uses his leverage to topple Dustin so they're laying on the floor, sprawled together at just the right angle for Steve to lick into his mouth, desperate and a little overwhelmed. "I love you," he says, completely jumbled by the fact that he hasn't pulled away at all. He says it again, and then adds, "Me too."

Dustin lets out a sort of agonized, hitching moan, and then his hands are on Steve's face, and he's kissing him back, sweet and tender, like he wants to take all of Steve's desperation and settle it, make it soft and satisfied, like he does with every other frantic part of Steve's life. When they do eventually pull apart, Dustin is panting, looking dazed and a little giddy, and Steve is feeling similarly winded. Still, he can't help but ask, quiet and timid, because of how much he wants the answer to be yes, "Does this mean I can buy you a ring now?"

Dustin huffs out a little laugh that trails off into a moan and replies, deep and throaty, "Yes, Steve. Please fucking buy me a ring." Then he kisses Steve again, pushes him onto his back, and slides his hand up the inside of Steve's thigh, firm and purposeful, before pulling back just enough to say, half teasing, fingers splayed lightly over Steve's crotch, "You like buying me things, don't you?"

Steve arches up into Dustin's hand a little involuntarily, already getting hard, even as he's flushing with embarrassment. "Yes," he says, and it comes out breathy and weak. Dustin looks so fond that Steve can't quite find any sting in what he thinks would usually be a kind of humiliating situation. "I want to buy you everything," he elaborates, can feel his face going even hotter as he says it, but Dustin just keeps smiling encouragingly, his hand pressing gentle and warm against Steve's hardening dick.

"That's good, baby," Dustin says. "I like it when you tell me what you want."

Steve hears himself whine a little, arches his hips up into Dustin's touch again as he does it, and shudders at the pressure. "I want you to have everything you want. I want you to get everything you want _from me_."

Dustin presses a little more firmly with his hand now, wrapping his fingers around the hard outline of Steve's erection, pressing enough that Steve still feels it through his jeans. He kisses Steve's temple, murmurs softly in his ear, "That's good, sweetheart. It feels good when you give me things." He's stroking Steve for real now, and there's already a wet spot gathering in his underwear because he leaks like crazy when he's turned on. He moans, high and mortifying considering it's only been a couple of minutes, but Dustin just shushes him gently, and continues talking, "I like it when you give me things to wear," he says, quiet and intent. "Because when I put them on, it's like telling everyone I'm yours. That you take care of me. Every time I look at my fucking watch, I think about you, and I wish everyone knew that it was from you."

Steve presses his face up into Dustin's neck, is grateful when Dustin slides his arm under Steve's neck to support his head, since they're still on the floor, and it's a bit awkward. "Dusty," he whimpers, clutching blindly at Dustin's shirt, because this is a lot, and Dustin is pressing all of his buttons like he's known all along that this is a thing for Steve, like he's just been waiting for the right time to tell Steve it's okay.

"I call you baby a lot," Dustin continues, voice pitched even deeper than before, and rolls the heel of his palm firmly over the head of Steve's dick, just the way it feels best through his jeans. Steve keens, loud and a little frantic. Dustin waits him out, and when he's quiet again, says, "But I think you're also kind of a daddy, aren't you?" He presses a kiss onto Steve's forehead and adds, "Like, my sugar daddy, yeah? Always taking care of me, just how I need it, giving me all the things no one else would justify giving me."

"Dusty, fuck," Steve chokes, not quite able to breathe right under the weight of how turned on he is right now. He hadn't really considered the implications behind how _much_ he liked giving Dustin things, but hearing him say it is kind of like a switch finally going on in his mind, and everything clicking into place. He likes it when Dustin takes care of him like this, when he calls Steve things like baby, and sweetheart, and treats him like he's fragile and sweet, but this is a whole 'nother thing, and he thinks he likes it just as much. He doesn't know what to do with it right now, though, feels himself getting overwhelmed trying to think about it when he's already halfway to an orgasm and Dustin's hand is warm and persistent on his cock. He moans, and it sounds a little more like a sob.

Dustin gets it, because he _always_ fucking gets it, and Steve feels relief wash over him when he says, "Alright, sweetheart. It's okay. We'll talk about it later." He feels Dustin press a kiss into his hair, feels his hand go a little tighter over Steve's dick. "I'm gonna take care of you. It's okay. God, you're so fucking good. So sweet and pretty like this, all fucked up and ready to come."

Steve can only whimper, feels his cock twitching hard and sudden in his jeans, more precum leaking out under Dustin's touch. He wants to touch Dustin, too, but feels too clumsy for it, a little disoriented from the migraine that's still trying to break past the wall of the medicine he'd taken, and a little drained from the panic attack earlier. He tries to say something to that effect but just ends up whining Dustin's name, hands clenched in his shirt.

"It's okay," Dustin says again, and reads him like a fucking book, because apparently Steve does the same thing every time he wants to touch Dustin. "Don't worry about it. I just want you to come, okay? I just want you to feel good right now."

Steve thinks he might actually be crying again now, can feel his cheeks getting wet as he hides his face deeper in Dustin's neck, overwhelmed because of how much he loves him. "I love you," he says, and it comes out whiny and a little fractious. "I love you," he tries again, sobbing. He feels Dustin hesitate, realizes he's worrying him, and adds a desperate, "Don't stop, please."

Dustin pulls him up a little more, cradling Steve against him so their balance is a little less precarious, and says, soft and sweet, "I love you, too, sweetheart. It's okay." Steve is full on crying now, but it's good. It doesn't hurt like the crying earlier, it's just a release, because he loves Dustin so much and can't do anything about it right now but cry into his neck and press up into his hand.

"M'sorry," he mumbles, aware that crying during things like this is generally considered a huge turn off, but Dustin just shushes him.

"Don't apologize. Let it out however you want." He squeezes Steve gently through his jeans again, and Steve moans, hard and sudden, realizes he's already fucking close, despite everything. "Fuck, Steve. You sound so fucking good, baby." Dustin sounds a little breathless, and Steve is relieved that he still seems to be turned on, despite the crying. It makes it easier for him to let go, to press up into Dustin's hand and moan again, mouth pressed against Dustin's sprinting pulse. "Do you want me to do anything else, or is this enough?" Dustin asks, panting a little bit.

"S'nough," Steve slurs. "M'soclose"

"Fuck," Dustin groans, slipping the arm that's supporting Steve's back a little further around so he can roll his thumb over Steve's nipple in time with the press of his palm against the head of Steve's dick. Steve yelps, startled, and then arches up into it, his orgasm crashing through him sudden and without warning. His vision goes white at the edges, neon auras sparking over everything in a strange mix between orgasm and migraine, and he's coming so hard it's almost painful, wrenching at his tense abdomen, splashing hot and sticky in his jeans over and over as he sobs into Dustin's neck. It's awesome and a little bit agonizing, and when it's over, and he finally goes loose again, he's not sure he's ever going to achieve higher motor function again.

Which is regrettable, because he can feel how hard Dustin is breathing, how still he's sitting, trying not to bring attention to the press of his erection against Steve's hip while he waits for Steve to recover, hands gentle and sweet, petting him softly. "Dusty," he moans, and realizes he also hasn't totally achieved verbal functionality either. "Fuck." He presses his open mouth against Dustin's pulse, licks him a little, and sucks at the spot, Dustin's hand holding firm to the back of his neck, his moan vibrating his throat enough that Steve can feel it in his own mouth. He hates that he knows he's not coordinated enough to jerk Dustin off right now, wants nothing more than to see him come undone after holding out for Steve to finish first. "Dusty," he says again, a little clearer. "Want you to come, but I'm fucked."

Dustin laughs at that, warm and clear, and says sincerely, "It's okay, Steve. I knew when I started it that you're not feeling well."

It's not good enough for Steve, though, and he's not even ashamed of how petulant he sounds when he says, "No. You deserve orgasms." Dustin just laughs again, nuzzling fondly at Steve's temple. Steve thinks for what feels like a long time, but is probably only a few seconds, and then starts crawling out of Dustin's lap, moving a little drunkenly, like his limbs are made of noodles.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Dustin sounds amused and a little concerned, his hands hovering around Steve's hips, like he's going to catch him if he falls over. Steve makes it the couple feet back to the bed, and turns around, leaning his back against it so that he's nice and stable.

"Come here," he says, and Dustin obeys easily. When Dustin has settled, straddling him delicately, close enough to kiss if he wanted, Steve feels himself go a little shy, wondering if this is okay after all. He swallows hard trying to clear the lump in his throat, and says, wobbly and unsure, "Will you jerk off for me?"

Dustin's eyes go wide, and he braces his arm against the bed frame by Steve's head to keep his balance as he sways a little. "Steve," he chokes, and it sounds like maybe he likes the idea.

Steve puts his hands on Dustin's hips, hoping to steady him a little more. "I don't think I'm, uh..." he can't think of the words he's looking for, so instead he just says, "I don't think I can hands."

Dustin smiles at that, looking fond and delighted, and says, "Yeah, okay, if you're sure."

Steve nods, then adds more than a little gracelessly, "I want you to come on me, Dusty. Fuck."

Dustin doesn't seem to mind that Steve's brain has apparently vacated the premises, because he just moans a little, dropping lower on his knees to give himself better balance. Then he's unbuckling his belt, and opening his pants, and pushing everything out of the way to reveal his perfect, thick erection, shiny with precum and flushed dark, and it makes Steve's mouth water a little just looking at it. "Jesus," he breathes, reverent and awed. He looks up at Dustin's face, sees that he looks a little shy, and can't stop himself from blurting, "I'm definitely going to suck you off one day, I don't care how long it takes me to get over it."

"Steve," Dustin says, harsh and deep. "Fucking Christ."

Then he's touching himself, and Steve is kind of mesmerized by the sight of his hand wrapped careful and delicate around his dick, by the way his breath catches in his chest, and the way his eyes go half lidded and dark, his mouth dropping open just the tiniest bit. It's kind of a lot to take in, and Steve hears himself whimper, feels his own spent cock twitch in his jeans, wishing it were ready for a second round already. Dustin takes a slow pace, but he's already shaking like a leaf, breathing hard and making quiet little sounds of desperation that make Steve realize he's probably a lot closer to the edge than Steve thought. "Dusty," he whispers, encouraging. "You look so fucking good. God you have such a nice cock. It's so fucking thick when you're hard. I never want to see another dick in my life, fuck. Yours is perfect."

"Steve," Dustin moans, braces himself against the bed again, and rests his forehead against Steve's gently. "Fuck, keep talking baby, please."

Steve swallows hard, nuzzling up against Dustin's face for a second before he continues, quieter than before, "Sometimes I think about it inside of me. And it's hard for me to imagine, and it scares me a lot, but at the same time, I want it so bad, and I think if it was you, I could really do it. I really want to do it. Fuck, Dusty, I want you to come inside of me, and in my mouth, and on my skin."

Dustin kisses him, sloppy and desperate, and Steve opens up for him immediately. It doesn't last long, because Dustin is too far gone and can't maintain it, but that's alright. Steve just goes back to talking, whispering secrets into Dustin's skin. "I want to put a ring on your finger, and keep you forever, and give you everything I can give you, even if it takes me years to work up to it. I want to fuck you, and suck you off, and I want you to fuck me and paint me up with your come, and make me forget that anyone else ever touched me, because I fucking love you and you make everything so good." It's probably a little too honest, and it makes Steve feel raw to say it, but his filter seems to be gone right now, and he thinks, if it's Dustin, it's okay for him to be a little raw, if it means telling him how good he is, or how much Steve wants him.

Dustin just moans, long and broken; sounds like he's trying to say Steve's name, but can't really get it out; sounds like he's close but can't really get over the edge.

Steve kisses him again, quick and dirty, and while he's still reeling, says softly, "I want to marry you, and spend the rest of my life with you, and your perfect, fat dick, Dusty." And then Dustin sort of collapses in on himself, lets his head fall on Steve's shoulder, breathing hard as he comes, moaning Steve's name like a fucking prayer. Steve can feel his come, splattering up onto his shirt, hard enough to actually make a sound, and he holds Dustin through it, trying not to say anything else incriminating at least until Dustin has come down enough to appreciate his total lack of censorship this afternoon.

It takes a few minutes for Dustin to stop trembling and to start breathing normally again, but as soon as he does, his head snaps up and he's smiling like he's just seen something amazing. "Holy shit," he says, and sounds giddy. "Holy fucking shit. You have no fucking filter right now." Steve feels himself going hot in the face, and is about to start apologizing or something when Dustin hastily adds, "It's really hot and I love it. And also you. Holy shit."

Steve groans, but it's mostly for show, because he's actually kind of pleased that Dustin takes everything in stride so easily. Dustin just smiles at him, nuzzling at his face a little before saying gently, "But just so you know, we're totally talking about that shit later, when you feel better and are actually capable of having a conversation about it without saying things you might regret."

Steve loves him a lot. More than he ever really realized was possible, except that it's happening now. In fact, he thinks his love for Dustin is like a self-renewing resource, only in addition to renewing, it also feeds itself, and becomes stronger and stronger over time, with a sort of infinite capacity that's probably going to continue surprising Steve forever. All he can say in return in is, "Yeah, okay. But can we figure out your ring size first thing? Having my filter back isn't going to change the fact that you said I could buy you one."

Dustin beams at him, that devastating, solar smile of his, and replies fondly, "Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?"


	17. Chapter 17

Claudia is actually excited when they tell her Dustin is going to Steve's for Christmas Eve dinner. Her face lights up and she's gushing about how happy she is that Steve's parents have finally come around, already rambling about how of course they can postpone their own plans, and how it's wonderful that finally both families can see how good this all is. Steve feels terrible, guilt roiling under his skin as he stands there, stricken, and unsure what to say. He doesn't want her to think he's not proud of Dustin, doesn't want her to think he's a spiteful person, that he doesn't appreciate how good Dustin is, that he wouldn't be willing to tell his parents if he thought they would do anything other than try to ruin both their lives. He wants to stop Claudia, before she gets too invested in the idea, wants to say something, anything to keep her hopes from going any higher before he has to crush them, but he feels paralyzed, can't think of anything but the fear snaking up his throat.

Dustin does it for him, his voice a little harsher than he probably intended when he snaps, "Mom!" He looks sorry when she startles, her excited babbling coming to a halt with a sharp gasp. He sighs, and makes a placating gesture with his hands. "Sorry, sorry. It's just not what you think." Dustin makes an abortive, not at all subtle gesture towards Steve, who probably looks fucking terrible, if the way her face falls when she looks at him means anything.

"Oh," she says, full of a lot of sadness for a single syllable, comprehension dawning quickly in her expression.

Steve feels awful, and still isn't sure what to say, but feels like he has to say something. "I'm sorry," he tries, and is proud that his voice doesn't crack. "I wasn't supposed to say yes when she invited him. I just couldn't...she was so smug, like he's not important enough, and I couldn't -" He shrugs, feeling lost. "I don't want to keep it a secret, either, but they would..." He trails off, unable to force himself to voice all of his fears, not wanting to break down crying _again,_ exhausted of always being overwhelmed to the point of tears.

Claudia just bustles over and pulls him into a hug, all motherly and warm, the way she always is. "That's alright, honey. You don't have to apologize. You're doing good." He hugs her back, relieved and grateful, and then feels himself smiling as she adds, "And it's good you called her bluff. Dusty is excellent at polite conversation. He makes an estimable dinner companion." She steps away from Steve enough to turn to Dustin. "Isn't that right, Dusty?"

Dustin grins, and Steve doesn't think he's imagining the evil tinge to it. "Yeah, I'm great at it. We'll be fine."

When 5:30 Christmas Eve rolls around, and it's time for them to leave, Steve isn't so sure. He can already feel himself breaking out in a nervous sweat, and he's pretty sure if he tries to talk right now, he's going to devolve immediately into hysterics. He's asked Dustin to drive, because he's freaking out enough that he's pretty sure it would be irresponsible for him to do it, and Dustin is standing patiently with him by the front door, car keys in one hand, holding Steve's hand in the other. If there's one thing Steve can focus on, it's that Dustin looks really good, passive aggressive fashion choices and everything. He looks like Steve's mother chose his clothes - sweater vest, khakis, loafers. It's nothing like his usual clothes, even for nicer occasions, and Steve recognizes it for what it is. Dustin is trying to make Steve's parents uncomfortable by showing up looking exactly like someone they should approve of.

He squeezes Dustin's hand, and says raspy and quiet, "That looks good on you. They're going to hate it."

Dustin smiles at him, soft and sweet, kisses the back of the hand he's holding, and replies, "I know, babe. That's why I'm wearing it." Then he steps a little closer, shoving the keys in his pocket so he can have a hand free to touch Steve's face, running his knuckles gently down Steve's cheek. "It's going to be fine. Whatever they have planned for me, I can handle it, and if they go in on you, we'll figure it out. I've got you, okay?"

Steve takes a deep breath, lets it out as a sigh, and thinks maybe he's calm enough to actually get in the car now. Dustin is right. Whatever happens, they'll be fine if they can just stay calm. His parents are likely to be jonesing for a fight, and Steve knows that Dustin is particularly good at pretending he doesn't recognize baiting. He's honestly probably the perfect counter to their venomous brand of passive aggression. "Okay," he says, finally. "Let's get it over with."

When they get there, five minutes before six, Steve's mother is waiting in the doorway, having opened it as soon as she saw their headlights coming up the drive. She's watching them, arms crossed over her chest, face pinched, and Steve knows she's doing it to put him on edge, hates that it's working. He wants another minute to compose himself before he gets out, but she's taken the opportunity for that away with her impatient, looming presence. He releases a shaky, morose sigh as he unbuckles his seat belt, and Dustin gives him a sympathetic look. "It'll be okay, sweetheart. I've got you."

Steve nods, mutters a quiet, sincere, "Thanks, Dusty," and forces himself to exit the car. Dustin waits for him to come around to the drivers side, waving casually towards Steve's mom as he does, and then falls in step next to Steve as they make their way up the path. His gait looks easy and relaxed, and he's smiling like this is the only thing he could ever want to do on Christmas Eve. Steve is kind of in awe of him. He's seen Dustin do this before, in short spurts during encounters with Steve's parents, or assholes on campus, but those times have always ended quickly, and Steve is sort of in disbelief that Dustin plans to hang on to this performance for an entire evening. It's incredible, he thinks, watching, somewhat stunned as Dustin greets his mother warmly, smiling brightly and saying before she can even get a word out, "Hello, Mrs. Harrington! So sorry we're running a little late. My mom's cat knocked over her Christmas tree and I lost track of time helping with the clean up. I can't apologize enough."

It's a total fucking lie - Steve's panic had been the only delay, and they're not even late, but Dustin was smart to start with that, because in the Harrington household, showing up on time is akin to showing up an hour late. Steve feels himself smiling a little bit, despite himself, and is glad that Dustin never feels the need to use that easy liar's mouth against him. "Sorry, Mom," he says, and hugs her briefly around the shoulders, using the leverage to pull her back inside and clear a path for Dustin to follow them in.

She seems flustered, not quite able to pick a response she likes, and Steve assumes she'd been planning on opening with scolding them for their lack of timeliness. Finally, after a few awkward seconds of readjusting her blouse, she says, "Well, I guess I can't hold it against you for helping your mother. I'm so glad you could both join us." She sounds pleasant enough, but her tight expression and rigid posture are giving her away, and Steve honestly can't believe that Dustin's won the upper hand already. He's sure it won't last long once they're all trapped at the table, but it feels good to know she's off balance going into it.

When they do make it into the dining room, Steve's father is standing at the head of the long table, and he neglects to move from the spot, forcing Steve and Dustin to go to him. He shakes both of their hands, his grip crushing to the point that Steve has to fight not to wince. Dustin just keeps on smiling, loose and relaxed. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for having me."

The man just nods curtly and says, "Shall we eat, then?"

It starts out quiet, mostly just passing things around until everyone's plate is full, and then a blissful few minutes of eating, before his father carefully sets his silverware down and clears his throat. Steve goes tense immediately, glancing over at Dustin reflexively, but he still looks as calm as ever, taking a sip of water, and then waiting, smart enough not to be caught with his mouth full if Steve's father talks to him. Steve follows suit, waiting tense and curious to find out which one of them his father will go after first, honestly unsure which he would prefer. "So, how's the _job_ going, son?" He says it with a sneer, as if he hardly thinks what Steve does counts as a job, and Steve represses the urge to clench his fists, wishes more than anything that he could get up and leave, or even better, just crawl into Dustin's lap and hide forever.

"It's good," he says instead, as firmly as he can, annoyed that it still comes out sounding weak. "The kids are great, really fast learners. We're working really hard on team work and teaching them to acknowledge their own strengths and weakness, so that they're more equipped to see the value in others as well. It's going great." He feels his voice getting a little harder as he goes along, knowing how his father feels about the value of team work, about the idea that sometimes working together is a better option than forging your own path, all by yourself. He knows even more how his father feels about "strengths and weaknesses" and any children who have the wrong ones. "I'm getting lots of great feedback from the other faculty about how it's playing out in the academic classrooms," he adds, and lets himself feel proud of it, even though he knows his parents won't care.

"And here I thought gym class was for getting kids in shape and weeding out the weak," is what his father says, and Steve almost flinches at the deprecation in his tone, even though he'd been expecting it.

Steve tries to look casual when he shrugs, and is pretty sure he fails, but has no choice but to press on. "We're trying a different tactic,” He says, tight and controlled. “The goal is to help every kid be strong. To help them learn to relate to each other productively, even if they have differences." He pokes at a potato with his fork, and adds darkly, "So that they don't grow up to be miserable assholes."

Steve's mom gasps, and says sharply, "Language, Steve! This is the dinner table."

Steve meets her eye and frowns. "Sorry," he deadpans. "That was rude of me."

She nods. "That's alright, dear. Thank you." She dabs at the corner of her mouth with her napkin, careful not to actually touch her lips, for fear of ruining her lipstick, and then turns to Dustin. "So, Dustin, tell us what you're studying at school. Steve spends so much time with you, but we barely know anything about you."

From her tone, Steve thinks it's meant to be a dig, to make Dustin think Steve doesn't care enough to talk about him, and he bristles at the implication, annoyed that she thinks they aren't close enough for Dustin to know he never talks to them about anything. Dustin just smiles winningly and launches into an explanation about computer science, and coding, and how he's taking a minor in biology, because he just finds it fascinating. He sounds intimidatingly intelligent, and Steve realizes he's using jargon on purpose, to make things sound more complicated than they are. He's heard Dustin explain things in layman's terms before, for his own benefit, knows that he's aware that Steve's parents won't understand half of what he's saying. It makes him smile, because even in this Dustin is playing the game, and he's doing it well enough that he has absolute deniability if he's called out.

He comes off charming and enthusiastic - like he's just an excitable nerd who wants to talk about what he's studying because he's been asked, and doesn't have the social grace to realize not everyone will understand. It's vicious, and calculated, and frankly, a little terrifying, and honestly, if they were anywhere else, Steve would probably be a little turned on right now, because Dustin his doing this _for him_. He has no personal stake in making Steve's parents uncomfortable. He's just doing it because he knows they hurt Steve, knows their goal tonight is to make Steve feel worse, and that's motivation enough for Dustin to play the game. Dustin may not be one to get into actual fights if he can help it, but Steve thinks he might actually be the most savage person he knows, and it's kind of wonderful.

When he finishes explaining the nuances of his major, Dustin turns to Steve and says, genuinely excited, "Actually, I was thinking about taking extra course credits starting next semester to try and graduate a year early. I worked it out and I think I can actually do it pretty easily. I'll be busy, but it would mean I can come back home a year sooner." He turns back to the table in general to add, "I really want to get back to Hawkins ASAP, because my mom is all by herself, and I want to be around to help her out."

Steve is stunned, too caught off guard by the prospect of Dustin finishing a whole year early to even think about anything else. Because Dustin is coming back to Hawkins to be with _him_ , so they can have a life together, and now he's telling Steve that he's going to take on a whole shit load of extra work just so they can have that even sooner. "Dusty," he says, and alarm bells go off in his head, because it sounds way too tender, and his parents are here, listening, probably watching him like a hawk, but he can't help it, because _holy shit_.

"That's awesome," he adds, once he's sure he can say it without his voice cracking, and tries to sound more detached, like he hasn't spent the last week thinking constantly about the type of ring he wants to give Dustin, because he's going to marry him, as much as they can be married, even if it won't be legal; like his entire future isn't already revolving around the assumption that Dustin will be there with him. "Have you told your mom? She'll be so excited," he finishes, trying to salvage the situation, wishing he was better at hiding how totally wrecked he is. He wants to hold Dustin's hand, to kiss him and laugh into his mouth, and tell him over and over how incredible he is.

Dustin smiles at him, and it's soft and sweet, but nothing too incriminating, because he's a consummate performer, much better at covering their bases than Steve's sappy ass. "No, I only recently decided to do it. I was gonna tell her after next semester is over, once I make sure I really can handle the course load."

Steve's father breaks his reverie a little, cutting in with, "Well, that's certainly impressive. I'm sure you'll have a lot of career prospects if it all works out." Somehow, he sounds disapproving and unimpressed all at once, and Steve would honestly love to punch him in the face. Dustin is the smartest person in this room, and also probably in the whole fucking town, and it's easy for Steve to latch on to despising the man for his inability to brook any real acknowledgment of his betters.

Dustin just takes it in stride, still sounding genuine and unaware of the criticism when he replies, "I know there are a lot of great firms in the tri-city area, so I definitely think I should be able to find something close enough to home. Computers are the future, and it's already a field that is growing exponentially. I'm really looking forward to the developments that will come just by the time I graduate. It should be a really stimulating field to work in."

Steve's mom makes a tittering sort of laughing sound, as if she's genuinely delighted by Dustin's enthusiasm, but follows it up with, "How _did_ you ever become friends with our Steve?"

There are so many possible implications, Steve isn't even sure which one she's going for, but it's clearly a jab at one, or both of them, and it hurts a little despite everything. Maybe because he's already acutely aware of how out of his league Dustin actually is, or maybe because he feels guilty, leaving Dustin to spar with his parents, while he sits helpless and unable to defend himself or Dustin, even though he wants to.

Dustin just tilts his head a little, lets his face fall into a look of perfect, innocent confusion, and says, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder the same thing. He is way too cool to be hanging out with me, but I'm not going to complain. He's a great friend to have."

Steve thinks he might be blushing, because he always goes red when Dustin compliments him, no matter the context, and he hopes desperately that his parents won't notice.

His mother's smile takes on a sharp edge, and Steve recognizes the expression as the one she makes when she thinks she's about to score a victory blow. "Well, you two certainly seem _close_. He spends more time with you than he ever did with his girlfriends."

Steve can barely hear Dustin's reply over the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears, all of his dread and panic rolling over him again, because _this_ is the conversation he was afraid of. This is the one weapon she could effectively wield against him, to bring him ruin on the highest scale. Dustin _still_ doesn't waver, though, just replies pleasant as ever, "Well, he did save my life. It was a long time ago, so you might not remember, but that kind of thing earns you a lot of loyalty. Can't imagine why he keeps me around, but I'm not in the market to throw away friends as good as Steve without reason."

Steve's father hums, ostensibly in agreement, pinning Steve with his hard stare. "You've been awfully quiet, son."

Steve tries to be subtle about taking a deep breath, tries to keep his voice as steady as possible as he scrapes out a reply. "I figured you'd be more interested in getting to know Dustin, since you've never really spoken before." It comes out a little angry, but he'd rather that than betraying his own fear and panic. "Was there anything specific you wanted me to chime in on?"

"No," his father says, sullen. "Just an observation. It's Christmas Eve, perk up."

Steve sits up straighter, stretches his face in a smile that feels more like a snarl, and grinds out, "Yes sir."

Things are a little more awkward after that, Steve's obvious discomfort clouding the atmosphere even more than his parents' antagonism, but Dustin manages to carry the conversation through dessert _and_ a cup of tea in the living room before they're finally excused. Steve holds it together until they're about halfway back to his place, and then breaks down all at once, dropping into hitching sobs from one breath to the next. He buries his face in his hands, and realizes he doesn't even have any tears, just the jagged, sawing ache of weeping in his chest.

Dustin's hand is warm on the back of his neck, squeezing gently, and Steve knows it's the best he can do while he's driving. "I'm sorry," Dustin says, quiet and calm. "That was shit." He sighs. "And I'm sorry I dropped the thing about me graduating early on you there. I didn't mean to make you more vulnerable than you already were."

Steve turns to look at him, is honestly baffled that he's apologizing for anything right now, after basically dragging Steve's ass through the night. "Dusty you were incredible, what the fuck? I couldn't even think straight, but you were so fucking cool." He reaches up to take Dustin's hand off his neck, sits back in his seat so he can slot their fingers together and hold their hands in his lap. "I don't think I would have made it without causing a scene if I was by myself."

Dustin glances over at him, flashes him a quick smile before looking back at the road. "Couldn't fucking let them have the satisfaction, babe. They don't deserve you."

Steve huffs out a low, pained laugh. "Yeah," he says, quiet and hurt, hating that they still have so much sway over his emotions, that he's still conditioned to seek their approval, even after all the effort he's taken to distance himself from that goal. He sighs, resting his forehead against the cold window. "Thank fuck you were there."

Dustin just squeezes his hand reassuringly and stays quiet for the last few minutes of the drive.

Once they're home, and they've both changed out of their dinner clothes, Steve pulls Dustin into a hug, presses his face into Dustin's neck and clings to him, breathing shaky and weak. "I'm glad you're going to try to graduate early," he mumbles, right against Dustin's skin. "I want you here with me. I want to live with you forever, not just a few days at a time."

He can feel Dustin smiling, because he's resting his cheek on Steve's head, holding him in a loose embrace, rocking back and forth on his feet a little, soothing and rhythmic. "Yeah," he says quietly. "That's the goal."

They stand like that for a long time, swaying a little in place while Steve breathes against Dustin's neck, and then Dustin says, thoughtful and still just as quiet, "Do you think I can call you my fiance now?"

Steve goes a little weak at that, makes a noise he's not at all proud of as he clings tighter to Dustin's shoulders. " _Yes_ ," he says, emphatic and urgent, suddenly hot all over at the image of it.

"Oh, good," Dustin says, cheeky and sweet, like he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing. "You'll have to buy me a ring before I go back to school or no one will believe me."

"Dusty," Steve moans, drawn out and whiny.

He can hear Dustin's smile in his voice when he continues as if Steve isn't falling apart in his arms. "I think you should take me shopping this week, before New Year's. What do you think?"

"Yes," he says, breathless and a little dizzy. "Anything you want."

"Good." Dustin squeezes gently at the back of his neck, and Steve feels his breath hitch, wants Dustin's hands on him, under his clothes, _now_. "Do you want to go lie down, sweetheart?" Steve only nods, because he thinks if he tries to say something, it'll just turn into more embarrassing sounds. He lets Dustin guide him over to the bed, lets himself be pushed down against the pillows, whines when Dustin's hand slides up under his shirt, arching into it a little desperately. "Jesus," Dustin breathes. "You're so high strung, baby."

"Sorry," Steve chokes, still pressing guiltily up against Dustin's hand.

"No," Dustin says, gentle and corrective, petting Steve's stomach softly. "I didn't mean it like that. You're just so responsive all the time." He slides his hand up Steve's ribs, pushing the hem of his shirt up as he goes. "I wish I could always be here to give you what you need."

Steve has to cover his face, hides behind his own hands because he can't look at Dustin without going totally speechless. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me," he says, watery and broken, wishing he had some explanation for how quickly he drops over the edge like this. He never used to be this way, was always perfectly capable of keeping it together, even when he _really_ wanted someone, but now, he falls apart completely over the littlest things.

Dustin is shushing him softly, both of his hands splayed warm and wide over Steve's bare chest as he says, "It's okay, Steve. It's okay. Can you look at me?"

It takes him a long moment before he's able to work up the courage to drop his hands and open his eyes. Dustin looks fond and sad all at once, and his tone is soothing, but serious when he says, "There's nothing wrong with you. I love you the way you are - needy, and high strung, and sensitive as all fuck, and I'll always do everything I can to make sure you get what you need, okay? If I say anything about it, it's because I'm honestly kind of amazed I get to see you like this. I never want you to think I don't love everything about the way you are."

Steve isn't really sure how to process that, because it's exactly what he needs to hear, and at the same time it fills him up with so much feeling that he thinks he might drown in it, and all he can do is reach out for Dustin, pull him closer, until they're kissing and Steve can whimper into his mouth, press up into his hands again, and hope that he understands that Steve is grateful.

Dustin is slow with him, kissing him like molasses, heavy and sweet, like he knows that Steve is about to fall apart into a thousand little pieces if they're not careful, and it's _really good_. Dustin's hands are warm, running over Steve's skin in steady, sure movements, fingertips dipping into his pants to skate over his hips before running back up his sides, rubbing delicately at his nipples, until he's sobbing a little. His thighs are pressed tight into Dustin's sides, and Steve can feel Dustin's hard cock resting next to his own, warm and comfortable. He thinks he could probably come like this, if they continued long enough, but at the same time, it feels like it's not enough. He wants to feel Dustin's skin against his, to see his body, soft and beautiful, flushed all pretty in the dim light. Most of all, he wants to see Dustin's hard dick pressed up against his, skin on skin. He hears himself moan, high pitched and wounded, stressed because he wants it so much and doesn't know how to stop and ask.

Dustin stops immediately, pulling away just enough to say, "Are you okay?"

Steve nods, and says, "Clothes, please," hoping Dustin will get it, because his brain isn't capable of forming better sentences.

"Okay," Dustin breathes. "All of them?"

"Yes." Steve appreciates him clarifying, because it's not often he wants to be totally naked (has only actually been once), but right now he can't stand the thought of something between them, just wants to have Dustin's body on his. "Please," he adds, because sometimes Dustin needs extra encouragement to know Steve isn't pushing himself too far.

"Okay." He sounds shaken, but his hands are still steady as he carefully strips Steve out of his shirt, and then leans back to peel his pants and underwear off as well. Steve tries to help, lifting his hips a little to make it easier, but beyond that, he's a little too hazy to do more. When he's finally naked, Dustin stops and looks at him for a long moment, eyes all soft and wide, like he's caught off guard and overwhelmed. It makes butterflies rage in Steve's stomach, and he has to fight the urge to cover himself, because he doesn't want to hide from Dustin, no matter how much he's still not used to being looked at like he's precious.

After a long moment, Steve smiles, because apparently Dustin's brain is a little broken, and that's pretty flattering. He nudges a knee softly against Dustin's ribs and tries not to sound too impatient when he says, "You, too. Please."

Dustin goes a little shy, then, because he's always kind of self conscious, no matter how often Steve tells him he's beautiful, so Steve sits up and meets him where he is. He slips his hands up under the hem of Dustin's shirt, lays them gently over his waist and says, as sweet as he can, "I want to see your body, Dusty. I love looking at you."

Dustin melts against him, kisses him quick and soft, and says, "Yeah, okay," right up against Steve's mouth. It takes them another couple of minutes to get there, because then they're kissing again, and Steve is kind of helpless against the feeling of Dustin's tongue in his mouth, but eventually they pull apart enough that Steve can pull Dustin's shirt up over his head. Then they're both laughing, because this is not the ideal position for taking off Dustin's pants, and they end up rolling around, tangled up in the pants, and each other, completely robbed of all balance, laughing hysterically, because they just won't come off, until finally Steve pushes Dustin on to his back and untangles them, throwing them away with a little shout of victory.

He's still laughing a little when he kisses Dustin again, and Dustin leans up into him, smiling as he licks into Steve's mouth, letting Steve put his hands wherever he wants, his own arms around Steve's neck, pulling him closer. Steve is on his side, pressed tight against Dustin, so that he can kiss him, but still have easy access to him. He curls into him, pressing his erection against Dustin's hip, letting his knee rest just under his balls, close enough for Dustin to feel it, but careful not to push, and Steve enjoys the feeling of the top of Dustin's thigh against the inside of his own leg. It's different from how they usually do things, Steve spread out helpless under Dustin, but Steve likes it; likes how he has access to anywhere he wants to put his hands; likes the way Dustin's fingers are curled tight in his hair, still controlling their kiss, the way Steve needs it, but letting Steve do whatever he wants with their bodies.

Dustin moans and goes all tense when Steve runs the tips of his fingers, feather light over his nipple, and Steve revels in the way it goes stiff just from that, small and hard under his thumb. He teases him there a little longer before going back to petting him in long, even strokes, hands splayed as wide as he can make them, in an effort to touch as much as possible. Eventually, Dustin drops a hand down to Steve's thigh, curving it in the bend of his knee, rubbing his thumb softly against the sensitive skin there, making Steve shudder and go weak all over again. He whimpers, and Dustin moves his hand, trailing up the back of Steve's thigh, warm and firm, stopping just under the curve of his ass, squeezing just enough to encourage Steve to rock his hips, giving him friction against his cock that he'd forgotten he needed.

He moans, hard and sudden, and has to pull away from Dustin's mouth, just so he can remember to breathe. Dustin kisses his forehead, patient and sweet, running his other hand soothingly over Steve's spine. Then he pulls a little at Steve's thigh, and says soft and quiet, "Come here, sweetheart." So Steve does, letting Dustin's hands put him where Dustin wants him, straddling his hips, face pressed into his neck, where he always feels safest, where he can hide from everything, or look down their bodies and see the way they're pressed together, Dustin's dick right up next to his, just the way he had wanted it. Dustin kisses his temple and says, "Is this okay?"

Steve nods, tries to answer, but can only make an affirmative, whimpering sort of sound. He feels Dustin's hand in his hair again, cradling his head protective and supportive. His other hand is petting Steve's hip, curving around his back, running gently over his ass and down his thigh as far as he can reach. It's good, even laying still like this, it's good to have Dustin's hands on him, his dick hot and hard against Steve's, but it's not quite _enough_. Steve thinks, if he just cants his hips up a little, he would have room to touch Dustin, so he does, shifting just enough that he can run a hand down Dustin's body, until he can slide his fingers around Dustin's pretty, perfect dick and feel the force of his moan between them.

"Fuck, Steve," he gasps, barely even audible, and his hands go tight on Steve's body in a way that makes him whimper and grind down against Dustin reflexively.

The slide of his dick against Dustin's is made a little clumsy by the fact that his hand is there, but very suddenly, he realizes exactly what it is that he wants, and it's enough make him sob into Dustin's neck, immediately desperate. Dustin seems to catch on pretty quickly as well, pushing his hips up against Steve and making little, soothing noises at him when he starts to keen. He reaches between them to delicately move Steve's hand out of the way and says, gentle and comforting, "I've got you, baby."

His hand is warm and soft, and Steve can't help but watch as he wraps it loosely around both of their erections, not quite able to get a good grip, but not really needing one for what they're going to do. He runs his other hand, the one that had been in Steve's hair, over Steve's spine, stopping in the small of his back and pressing just hard enough to encourage Steve to move his hips. Steve groans, mesmerized by the sight of his dick sliding up the length of Dustin's erection, pressed tight against each other by the circle of Dustin's fingers. "Just like that," Dustin says, and it sounds broken and wrecked, like maybe he's barely holding on for Steve's sake. Steve does it again, rolls his hips in a long slow circle, the head of his dick dragging up Dustin's whole length, sliding tight against his slit, so that they're both smeared with each other's precum, shiny and slick. Steve has to look away after that, has to close his eyes and press his open mouth against Dustin's neck, because it's too much to look at Dustin's dick like that, hard and leaking right onto Steve's.

Dustin is making quiet, broken little noises of his own, offering as much encouragement as he can as Steve fucks down into his hand, saying things like, "Fuck, that's right," and, "Right there," and, "You're doing good, baby." He's helping, too, pressing his thumb down over the tips of their dicks on the upstroke, hard enough that Steve can feel that, hot, sharp pleasure he gets when Dustin rubs at his slit, even though the angle isn't quite right. It makes it hard to keep a rhythm, makes it hard to keep track of anything, because all he can focus on is the tight, hot coil winding in his belly, the feeling of his balls drawing up tight, the knowledge that it's Dustin's dick he's rutting on, that it's slick between them because Dustin is just as turned on as he is.

He's close, and it makes him want to kiss Dustin, because it's always easier when Dustin is kissing him. Dustin goes with it readily, moaning open mouthed against Steve, licking into him clumsily, sliding their tongues together in a way that makes the heat rush up through Steve even harder. Steve thinks he might be keening, deep in his chest, because he can feel it vibrating there, but can't really hear himself over the sound of his own pulse thundering in his ears. He knows his rhythm is staggering, but Dustin makes up for it a little by arching his hips up to meet him, giving them a more complete stroke, and sending little sparks of white over Steve's vision. And then Dustin drags his mouth away and moans Steve's name, long and broken against his cheek, arching up into him, hard and tense, and Steve can _feel_ his cock twitching, can feel the searing hot splash of his come, the force of it muted a little by the fact that they're pressed so close together, he's basically coming into Steve's dick.

The feeling of it, hot and slick, and so _much_ is enough to white Steve out, his body going tight and twitchy as he comes, flinching hard into Dustin's hand. It wrenches a sob out of him, and he can't quite hold himself up, collapsing onto Dustin's chest, so that it's even tighter between them. Dustin's breath is coming in hard, hitching bursts, but he just clings to Steve, holding him where he is and rutting up in tiny, barely there movements, until they've both finished and it becomes too much. After that, Dustin's clean hand is back in Steve's hair, petting him, gentle and soothing as Steve tries to catch his breath, unable to stop the harsh, jagged mewling sounds that are coming out of him.

He feels shaky and weak, like every muscle in him won't stop fluttering and spasming, but it's good, clouded over by the euphoria of the orgasm, and the feeling of Dustin under him, their come sticky and wet between them in a way Steve finds more comforting than he probably should. Dustin is still petting him, waiting patiently for him to come down, just like he always does, and for some reason, the thought of it brings a sobbing, aching sound bubbling up inside of him. He presses his face up under Dustin's jaw, mouth against his pulse, strong and steady, and lets himself babble, because it's either this, or he starts crying, and it might be both anyways. It mostly consists of him saying, "I love you," over and over again, broken up by things like, "You always take care of me. You're amazing. I can't believe how amazing you are." He thinks, if it were anyone else, or maybe if he had more presence of mind, he'd be embarrassed, but as it is, he's just overwhelmed, because Dustin is incredible, and he does _everything_ for Steve, and Steve feels powerless, like he'll never be able to show Dustin how important he really is, no matter how many times he tells him he loves him.

Dustin lets him go on for a little while, but starts shushing him when he's getting too worked up, his breathing coming too fast, edging into panic territory. He curls up into Steve, using what little leverage he has to push Steve over onto his back so that he can pull Steve against him. His hand is still wet and sticky, but Steve doesn't care, pushes up into the embrace and presses it into his own skin, so Dustin knows he doesn't need to be careful about it. Dustin holds him like that for a long time, whispering softly in his ear, telling him to breathe and relax.

It takes him long enough that the come is starting to dry and go flaky, which is impressive, considering how much of it there is, but eventually he feels like he can stand up without vibrating apart, or disintegrating into nothing, and when he looks at Dustin, it doesn't feel like scraping open a wound to say, "Thank you, Dusty. For tonight, and for this. For everything."

Dustin smiles at him, sweet, and gentle, and all the things he is at his core, and replies, "You're welcome. I hope you know, I'll always do what I can for you."

Steve nods, kisses him lazy and slow, and hopes that Dustin knows he feels the same.


	18. Chapter 18

When they arrive at Claudia's early Christmas morning, she greets them both with a warm hug and a soft smile, and is careful with Steve the entire day, as if she knows that he might be fragile after last night and wants to make sure she doesn't give him anything more to hurt over. They eat breakfast together, and exchange presents between the three of them, and Steve is included equally in everything, as if he really is a part of the family. Dustin asks him, while Claudia is out of the room, if it's okay to tell her about the plan with the rings and Steve says yes, is still kissing him when she comes back. She laughs, and throws a piece of candy at them, saying happily, "Alright, that's enough boys."

She cries when Dustin tells her, though, smiling so hard Steve thinks it must hurt, big wet tears sliding over her rosy cheeks. She hugs them both for a long time, saying over and over how happy she is, how good they are for each other, how she wants to take so many pictures once they have them. Steve cries a little, too, because he's still not used to having a mom around who cares this much, and later, when he gets the chance, he pulls her aside to thank her again, sincere and heartbroken, because he knows there's no way he can ever really tell her what it means to him. She just holds his face in her hands, looks him in the eye and says, soft and gentle, like she's talking to a hurt child, "I love you very much, Steve, and I will always think of you as my son. I'm glad you have each other, and I'm glad I have you both. Don't you forget it."

Steve hugs her for a long time, and when he goes back to Dustin, he doesn't even try to hide the fact that he was crying - just let's Dustin kiss his cheeks, and then his mouth, muttering sweet things against his skin until he has to drag him back to his bedroom, because he's embarrassed to be seen like this in Claudia's living room.

Two days later, they head to the city to get the rings. Steve doesn't want to deal with making excuses for why they're buying matching rings, doesn't want to be sneered at or judged, so he drives them to the same area he'd gone all those years before, scared and in need of information, and they wander around, past various rainbow lined store fronts, hand in hand, until they find a jewelry store. The clerk looks at them, knowing and kind when they come in, and spends the better part of an hour helping them decide what to get. Dustin stands close to him the entire time, hand heavy and warm at the small of Steve's back as he answers all the questions about what they're looking for, and Steve can't quite shake the buzzing, overwarm feeling under his skin thinking about the fact that he's about to drop four figures on something Dustin will wear for the rest of his life. When Dustin does come close to a final decision, he smiles softly at Steve and asks, "What do you think, sweetheart?"

Steve just looks at him, eyes wide, feeling a little dazed, and very flushed and says, "Whatever you want."

Dustin laughs, gentle and kind. "Babe, you're gonna wear one, too. It's gotta be something you like."

But Steve can only keep looking at him, trying very hard not do something embarrassing in front of the clerk, wanting desperately to collapse into Dustin's arms and put his mouth on his neck. Eventually, he manages to swallow that feeling down and reply, "They're all good, Dusty. Whatever you want is what I want."

The clerk laughs, clear and sweet like a tinkling bell and says conspiratorially, "You've got yourself a good one, here."

Dustin doesn't look away from Steve when he replies, "Yeah, I really do."

The design is simple - a plain, wide platinum band, thick enough that it stands out on the finger, but not uncomfortable to wear. The edges are flat, giving it a little more dimension and heft, and Dustin tells him that's what he wants, so that he can never forget he's wearing it. They both get the same one, and the clerk suggests that, when they do have the ceremony, they can return to have the date engraved on the inside, which makes Steve feel a little faint because he likes the idea so much. They also buy two platinum chains, because they both know they won't always be able to walk around showing off their matching rings, but neither of them wants to go anywhere with out them. It's Dustin's idea, and Steve appreciates it, because he honestly had no idea how he was going to deal with not being able to wear it to work every day, but he thinks feeling it heavy against his chest under his clothes will be almost as good as having it on his finger.

When they leave, with instructions to return in three days for pick up, Dustin takes the keys from Steve's shaking hands and says right into his ear, "I think I should drive, sweetheart. You look a little shaken up."

So Steve sits in the passenger seat, staring helpless at Dustin's hands on the wheel until Dustin reaches across the center console and slides his hand along Steve's inseam, leaving it to rest right at the crease of his groin, and Steve spends the rest of the drive panting and whining as Dustin tells him just to wait a little longer.

When they get home, Dustin pushes Steve back against the front door and drops to his knees, and Steve is keening before anything even happens. Dustin stops to make sure it's okay, and then sucks Steve off slow and easy, hands heavy on his hips, pressing him into the wood of the door gently enough that Steve can still rock into his mouth a little bit. It's good, and Steve comes fast, watches mesmerized as Dustin swallows, then falls to his own knees and pushes Dustin back into the carpet to lick the taste out of his mouth, jerking him off, a little clumsy, but good enough that Dustin comes in less than a minute.

Steve doesn't even make it all the way home the day they pick up the rings, comes in his jeans, pushing up into Dustin's hand and then begging Dustin to take the next exit and find somewhere innocuous to park. Fortunately, it's the middle of nowhere, and the rest stop they end up at is empty, so they can tumble into the back seat and rut into each other, kissing sloppily until Dustin comes, and then a minute later, Steve comes again, pushed over by the sight of their hands tangled together, slick with Dustin's come, both of their rings covered in it, in a way he's sure would make the jeweler cringe.

They clean up in the restroom afterwards, and Steve experiences a little retroactive thrill of fear, turns to Dustin and says, "Holy fuck, I am so glad no one drove up." Dustin laughs, and kisses him all sweet and soft.

"Me too. Now let's get home before we get arrested."

The rest of winter break goes by in a haze after that. They visit with the other members of the party on New Years, and no one will talk about anything other than the fact that they've got matching jewelry now, but it's nice, because everyone is happy for them. Steve has to go back to work that Tuesday, but Dustin will still be around for another week, so it makes it a little easier to leave. No one notices the chain around his neck, or at least no one comments on it, which Steve thinks is good, because he doesn't want to have to explain, just wants to be able to sit at his desk and press his hand against the solid weight of the ring in peace. Dustin wears his all the time, and it honestly still brings Steve's whole existence stuttering to a halt every time he sees it. He's not sure he'll ever get used to it, and he thinks that's okay.

When Dustin does finally have to leave, Steve can't go with them to drop him off, and he cries into Dustin's neck for about twenty minutes before he can get it together and watch them drive away. It takes him a long time to adjust again, and he spends a lot of nights awake, sobbing into his pillow, desperately trying to convince himself not to wake Dustin up with another phone call. He never holds out very long though, and Dustin is always sweet with him, talking to him in that tired, sleep raspy voice until Steve feels like he can fall asleep, never scolding him, even though Steve _knows_ that he's exhausted, his time spread thin over his extra courses.

Eventually, Steve manages to find equilibrium again, to carry his sanity between their visits, to give Dustin the time he needs, so that they can be together in the long term more quickly. When spring break rolls around, Claudia suggests that maybe Dustin ought to stay with Steve the entire time, follows it up with a simple, "Maybe start moving some of your things to Steve's? So it won't be such a production in the summer?" Dustin hugs her savagely, clinging tight and crying, and Steve understands. The two of them have always been together, by themselves in their home, and now Claudia is giving him permission and approval to make his home somewhere else - to make his home with Steve. Dustin asks her if she'll really be okay by herself, and she's crying too when she holds his face in her hands, wiping casually at his tears the way a mother does and replies, "Of course, baby. This is what it's all been for, right? For you to go out and be happy making your own life?" Dustin just cries harder, half happy, half agonized, and Steve hurts for him, because he knows how much he loves his mom, knows how much it hurts him to know that she'll be alone if he leaves. But Claudia keeps on smiling, her tears quiet and happy, and says, "Come on, now. It's not like I'm never gonna see you. You'll only be 10 minutes away." And Dustin laughs, and agrees, and when they leave that night, he makes sure to tell Steve that he's happy, doesn't want Steve to get the wrong idea, even though Steve already understands.

It's easier after that, when Dustin is away, because his things are all over Steve's apartment, taking up physical space, reminding Steve that it's Dustin's apartment now, too. It's like he's not totally gone, and even though it's still hard, it's easier when he can talk to Yurtle about it, can put on Dustin's clothes, or hold his favorite books and know that Dustin will be coming back to them when summer comes.

Sometimes, when he visits Dustin, he'll bring him fresh clothes, so that he can take the ones Dustin has been wearing home with him, because he likes to wear them, and be able to smell Dustin close to his skin. Dustin thinks it's cute, and has taken to leaving his laundry undone when Steve is coming to visit, so that Steve can pick and choose what he wants; and if sometimes, Dustin asks him to leave something of his behind as well, Steve's okay with that. He started it, after all, and he likes the idea of Dustin having things of his around, too.

When the last finals of the year rolls around, Dustin is spending his days holed up in the library, or holed up in classrooms, studying, and testing, and completing labs and projects like his life depends on it. He comes home at night, and sounds exhausted when he talks to Steve, and for the most part, Steve just talks him to sleep, happy to have him resting when he needs it. Still, he misses their long conversations, and the sound of Dustin's excited prattling. It's only been a couple of weeks, but Steve _misses_ him, is starting to get that itchy, warm feeling under his skin - the one he recognizes now as _need_ , but he knows he can't ask Dustin to do anything about it right now. He cares about him too much to put that on his shoulders when he's already balancing so much.

It takes him several days to finally decide to try handling it on his own. It's a Saturday morning, and he's woken up hard every day this week, has spent his days jittery and distracted, has gone to bed each night feeling strangely achy and empty, restless and unable to calm himself. He wants to call Dustin, just to hear his voice, but he knows he has a test this morning, and probably won't even be in his room to pick up the phone, so instead he gets up and rummages through his bottom drawer, where he keeps all of Dustin's dirty clothes. He's vaguely aware that this is weird, and that he should probably be embarrassed to be doing it, but at the same time, he's pretty sure step one of getting yourself off is to check your shame at the door.

So he puts on a tshirt that still smells enough like Dustin that it's almost like he's in the room, and crawls back into bed. It takes him a long time to get started, because he's a little frozen, unsure of what to do, lying on his side, face pressed up against his arm, nose buried in the sleeve of his shirt. He remembers the first time, when Dustin had talked him through this, how he'd been so lost in the sound of Dustin's voice he hadn't realized how turned on he was, how Dustin had walked him through everything, telling him how to use the pillow to help himself, telling him what to think about. He presses the heel of his palm down against his erection, needing the pressure to ease the ache there, and then carefully, he pushes his shorts down and pulls his cock out. His hands are shaking, but he thinks it's as much because he's turned on as because he's nervous, and he really doesn't want to stop.

He thinks about telling Dustin he did this later, telling him that just the thought of him was enough for Steve to get off, and it makes him moan a little, because he wants Dustin to know that, wants him to understand how much he does it for Steve. He moves his hand slowly at first, his grip loose, because he doesn't want to overdo it. He tries, on the upstroke, letting his fingers dip into the slit, just the way Dustin does it, and shudders because it feels so good. After that, he sets a relaxed, easy rhythm, letting his grip go a little tighter, because it feels nice, and letting his mind wander over all the things he likes most about Dustin. He thinks about how Dustin is always there for him, if he really needs it, how he's so sweet and gentle, and how he never makes Steve feel bad for being weird and needy. He thinks about how he's a sarcastic asshole sometimes, but only when people deserve it, or when he knows it won't hurt anyone's feelings. He thinks about that pretty smile of his, and his smart mouth, and soft hands. He thinks about how smart he is, how he could probably spend his entire life explaining things to Steve, and Steve _still_ wouldn't know even a fraction of what Dustin does.

He moans at that, turns so he can press his face into the pillow to hide a little, because even by himself, he feels too vulnerable. He's leaking a lot now, his fingers sliding easily over his shaft, slipping over the wet tip in a way that forces him to press a little harder to get that sharp pleasure spark of rubbing at the slit. He moans again, and pulls the hem of the shirt down, enough to wipe up some of the precum streaking his belly, and then he pulls it over his dick, wanting a little more friction there. The fabric is soft and worn, but he's already so sensitive that it makes him feel raw, makes the sensitive head of his dick feel achy and a little abused. He wonders if Dustin will care that Steve is doing this, rutting up into his tshirt, smearing his fluids all over like it belongs to him. Then he imagines Dustin wearing this shirt again, knowing that Steve jerked off in it, and it pulls a sharp, keening whine out of him, makes his dick twitch hard, dribbling another little puddle of precum, enough to soak through the fabric, to make a dark spot on the front.

He whines, high and loud, and pushes his hips up into it, pressing down with the palm of his hand and reveling in the rasping, abrasive friction of it. He thinks about what Dustin would do if he were here, and drops his other hand down between his thighs, running his hand up the inside of his leg, thinking about what it's like when it's Dustin doing it. His orgasm catches him by surprise, tearing through him sudden and hard, and he clenches his hands where they are while he rides it out, one on his thigh, and the other holding the rough fabric of the shirt tight over the head of his dick, so that his come is smeared into the fabric, drenching it because he has so much.

Afterwards, he's giddy, and he lays there, grinning at the ceiling for almost an hour, proud of himself because he hasn't done this on his own in so many years. When he does finally stumble out of bed and into the shower, he's still a little foggy with euphoria, but by the time Dustin calls him that night, he's come down enough that he manages not to blurt it out immediately. He asks Dustin how his tests went, tells him how proud he is when he hears they've gone well, listens to him ramble about his day, genuinely interested, because he always wants to know how Dustin is doing. When Dustin asks him how his day was, he suddenly feels very shy about it, like maybe it's silly that he's so proud of himself, but Dustin never makes him feel bad for shit like this, so he decides to tell him anyways, and hope for the best. It takes him a few tries to get it out, but eventually he manages to say, quick and embarrassed, "I jerked off by myself this morning."

Dustin sounds inordinately pleased when he replies, "Really? Babe, I'm proud of you." Steve feels his face go hot, and has to fight the urge to bury it in the pillow. "Was it good?"

"Yeah," Steve says, a little choked, because he hadn't expected to be _this embarrassed_ to say it. "I thought about you." He clears his throat a little, but it doesn't help much. "I came on your shirt."

He hears Dustin make a deep, surprised sort of sound before he replies, breathless and deep, "Jesus, Steve. That's good, baby. God, I'm so fucking proud of you."

It's exactly what Steve wants to hear, and it makes him whimper a little, because admitting it had been a lot harder than he'd expected, and Dustin sounds kind of turned on right now, and it's really a lot for Steve to handle. "Thanks for not making fun of me," he says, and means it a lot. He hadn't really been worried, because he knows Dustin never would, but a little part of his own mind had been telling him he was stupid for being so happy about it, and it's nice to know Dustin realizes what a big deal it is.

"Steve," Dustin breathes, voice deep. "Baby, I would never. You did so good. I know it's hard for you. I know it's a big deal. Fuck, sweetheart, I cant even...I'm so proud of you. Also, super turned on you used my shirt, but mostly proud of you."

"Dusty," Steve moans. "I love you. I can't wait for you to come home. Fuck. I love you."

"I love you, too. So fucking much. It's only one more week, but I miss you so bad, Steve. I just want to be home with you. I'm so fucking happy you got yourself off, but god, I want to be home with you so you don't have to do it by yourself."

It's a lot, and Steve can't really process it all at once, can only whimper against the receiver, slurring out Dustin's name as he does. He wants to ask Dustin to talk to him, to help him get off again, just because he wants to hear Dustin's voice while he does it, but he doesn't want to impose. He knows Dustin has another test tomorrow, knows he must be tired as fuck from working so hard, but he thinks he might already be a little too far gone. He can already feel his breathing picking up, fast and hard to manage, and his dick is hard in his shorts, already leaking a little just from Dustin's praise. "Dusty, fuck. Will you talk to me, please? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Fuck."

Dustin sighs, hard and relieved. "Jesus, I was hoping you'd ask. Don't be sorry. Fuck, don't be sorry. I want it so bad." Steve just moans, rolling onto his side and readjusting the phone in the cradle of his shoulder, so that he can touch himself without losing hold of it. "I've been thinking about you all week, sweetheart, wishing I had the time to do this. God sometimes I'm sitting in the library, trying to read my fucking notes, and all I can think about is the pretty little sounds you make, how your fingers look wrapped around your dick, all shiny because you fucking leak all over the place. Fuck, it makes me want to lick them clean, just so I can get that taste in my mouth again. You know how much I love the way you taste, fuck. I want to suck you off first thing when I come home, let your come fill up my mouth and just keep it there until I have to swallow it. Fuck, Steve. Fuck."

He sounds desperate and absolutely wrecked, like he needs this as much as Steve does, and Steve realizes he's probably been stressed as fuck, all pent up with no time or energy to do anything about it. He moans, ruts up into his hand and says as encouragingly as he can manage, "More, Dusty. Fuck you talk so pretty."

He hears Dustin whine a little, imagines his fingers going tight around his hard, fat dick, feels his own dick drooling a little more in response. "Fuck, I love you so fucking much. I love your pretty, big dick. It's fucking perfect, fills up my mouth so good, feels so good in my throat. It took me so long to learn not to gag, but god it was worth it for your dick in my throat. I think about it all the time. Think about letting you rut a little next time I do it. I think I've got enough practice now that I could take it without gagging. Just let you take what you need."

Steve whimpers, hard and high pitched, because he wasn't ready for Dustin to say something like that, wasn't ready for the image it gives him, knowing that Dustin would let Steve fuck his throat if he really wanted to. "Dusty, fuck. Holy fuck."

"Sometimes," Dustin starts again, but he sounds a little more timid this time, like this part is more of a secret. "All I can think about is your dick inside of me. I want you to fuck my throat, because we've done that before, and I think you'd feel safe doing it, but sometimes all I want is for you to fuck me for real." He cuts himself off with a harsh, sobbing sort of noise, and sounds even more wrecked when he goes on. "Steve, I want it so bad. I do it to myself sometimes, but I know it's not the same when it's just fingers. I want you to come inside of me. I don't want to do it if you don't feel safe, but I think about it so much, baby. About your dick inside of me, about how it would feel if you came in me."

"Dusty," Steve says, raspy and awed, because somehow, he'd never really let himself consider it for real. He'd always thought it was more of an abstract idea; that if they did fuck, it would have to be him taking it, which is something he doesn't know when he'll be ready for. Apparently, he was wrong though, and the idea of it hits him hard, feels like a revelation, rushing through him, filling him up with so much want, he thinks he might go out of his skin if he can't do something to relieve it. "We can," he says, desperate and sure. "When you're home, we can. I want it. I want you, fuck. I want to fuck you. I feel safe, I swear. Fuck, I promise. I want you."

Dustin is straight up sobbing now, and Steve worries he might even be crying for real, but he just lets out a low keening moan, and stutters out, "Steve, I'm gonna come, fuck."

Steve whimpers, listening as close as he can to the deep, punched out sounds of Dustin's orgasm, trying hard not to come just from how relieved he sounds.

After a short moment of quiet, Dustin lets out an audibly shaky breath, and says low and drawn out, "Fuck."

Steve moans a little in reply, and tries not to sound too needy when he says, "Dusty, that sounded so good."

"I needed it so bad, sweetheart. Fucking hell. I can't wait to come home to you. I miss you so much. God I wish I was there right now. I wish you could come in my hands, all pretty and hot, so I could lick it off my fingers." He pauses to make a sort of gut wrenching moaning noise, then adds, earnest and very serious, "So I could lick it off the ring you bought me."

Steve keens, loud enough that it probably hurts Dustin's ear over the phone, coming hard and sudden, pushing up into his fingers, and reveling in the feeling of his own ring sliding against his shaft as he does it. "Dusty, _holy fuck_ ," he gasps, pressing his face into the pillow as he's wracked with wave after wave of orgasm.

Dustin coos at him softly on the other end of the line, making little encouraging noises, and telling Steve over and over how good he sounds. When it's over, Steve doesn't move, is shaking and weak, and feels like if he tries to roll over or stand up he might actually fall. Dustin talks to him low and quiet, voice soothing as he tries to help bring Steve down. "I love you so much, baby. You're so fucking good. Take it slow. Deep breaths. My pretty man, so good all the time. I'm so proud of you for today. I can't wait to come home and take care of you. Make sure you get everything you need all summer. Just a few more days."

Steve hums, low and agreeable, and it almost feels like purring, basking in the praise, wishing Dustin were here so he could burrow into him and stay there until the world feels solid again. Instead he just listens, waiting for his body to pull itself back together, and whenever Dustin pauses, he says, "I love you," because it's the only sentence his mind can really form right now. He thinks it's enough though, because he can hear Dustin's smile in his voice, can practically see the way his face is all soft and tired, his expression sweet and fond.

When they finally do hang up, Steve feels warm and happy, deeply satisfied by everything, and when he goes to sleep that night, after another shower, and a change of sheets, it's the best sleep he's had all week.

By the time Friday rolls around, Steve's calm has all but evaporated, eaten up by his excitement and anticipation, because Dustin is _finally_ coming back to him, and it's going to be for _months_ this time instead of weeks. He didn't go with Claudia to pick Dustin up, because school isn't out until the end of next week, and he has to be there for the final days. The kids have been rowdy, more than willing to take advantage of Steve's total distraction, too excited about the proximity of summer break to really pay attention to the fact that usually they actually do respect him as an authority figure. It's okay, though, because Steve's pretty sure nothing can actually bring his mood down, and if he's being honest, they're just being rambunctious, not causing any real trouble.

His hands are actually shaking as he drives home, and he feels sweat prickling over the back of his neck, at the insides of his elbows and the backs of his knees. Dustin is going to be there, in his house when he gets home. Steve had given Claudia a key, so that Dustin could let himself in, and she'd promised to have him there by the time school got out. He misses the lock three times as he's trying to open the door himself before Dustin opens it for him and pulls him inside, already kissing him as Steve stumbles against him. Dustin walks him carefully back through the living room, still kissing him like his life depends on it, somehow manages to guide them through the hallway, and get Steve onto his bed without tripping or removing his tongue from Steve's mouth. Honestly, it's pretty fucking impressive, and Steve might make a joke about it if he weren't so busy pushing up into Dustin's hands where they're holding his hips.

They stay like that for a long time, kissing desperately, grinding lazily against each other until it gets to be a little too much and Steve has to stop for a second to breathe. Dustin pets his face, sweet and gentle, pressing kisses at the corners of his eyes, on the arches of his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Then he smiles, and says all warm and fond, "Welcome home, baby," and Steve has to shut his eyes because if he keeps looking he's never gonna calm down enough to carry on.

"Thanks," he says, and it comes out all weak and wobbly. "You, too." He pulls Dustin down against him, so their foreheads are resting together, his hand tight over the back of Dustin's neck, and lets out a slow, shaking breath. "Fuck Dusty," he whispers, and opens his eyes again. "You're finally fucking home."

Dustin grins at him, beautiful like some fucking celestial creature that Steve has somehow pulled down out of the sky and convinced to live with him, and it draws a broken, aching sound out of him that he doesn't even try to stifle. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says, and sounds like he's about to cry, overwhelmed and fiercely happy all at once.

Dustin's breath hitches, and Steve can feel it against his chest, because they're pressed so close together. "Fuck, Steve," he whispers, reverent. He runs his thumb lightly over Steve's lower lip, then presses a little, until Steve flicks his tongue against it. He giggles then, and presses it to his own mouth, licking at it too. Steve whimpers watching him, and wants to kiss him again, to taste his mouth all warm and wet, but also wants to keep looking at his pretty, happy face. Dustin compromises without even realizing what Steve's thinking, resting his wet thumb back on Steve's lip, and then sliding it into his mouth when he drops it open. He presses down on Steve's tongue, watching, mesmerized and saying, quiet with disbelief, "You're so fucking sweet, baby."

Steve arches up into him a little bit, hips flexing involuntarily at the praise, holding his tongue up against the steady pressure of Dustin's thumb as he whimpers, startled and pleased. Dustin smiles at him, soft with adoration, and pushes Steve's hair gently away from his face, brushing delicately at his forehead, looking at him like he's the most precious thing in the world. Steve whines again, and Dustin slides his thumb out of his mouth, dragging it softly over his lip and chin, giving Steve room to talk if he wants to. All Steve can say is, "Dusty, please," drawn out and mewling.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Anything you want."

Steve feels helpless and overwhelmed, too in love with Dustin to think, because he wants _everything_ , even the things that scare the shit out of him, and he doesn't know how to choose when Dustin is here like this, solid and real. "I don't know," he says, and feels an edge of panic to it, even though he knows Dustin will take care of him, will make it easy and sweet.

"Okay," Dustin murmurs, pressing a kiss against Steve's sweaty temple. "That's alright. Can I ask you for something? You might not be ready, and that's okay."

Steve's breath catches, heavy and sudden, like a hook lodged in his chest, because suddenly, he _knows_ what Dustin is going to ask for, and wants it so bad he can barely find the word 'yes' in his vocabulary to answer. But eventually, he does remember it, forces it out of his mouth, all slurred and warm because Dustin's mouth is still pressed up against his temple, and now he's licking at the skin there in tiny, clean strokes, like he just wants to taste Steve.

Dustin pulls away enough that he can look Steve in the eye, and his face is so earnest it makes Steve want to gather him up in his arms and protect him from the whole world forever. "Fuck me?" he asks, timid and shy, laced with so much hope it's almost painful to hear it.

Steve kisses him, licks his mouth open and feeds him the answer, over and over, pulling away just enough to say it each time, so there's no way Dustin will misunderstand. Dustin melts into it, let's Steve turn them over and push him back against the pillow, opens his legs to make room for Steve between them and then presses his heel gently at the small of Steve's back to pull him closer. They stay like that for a long while, kissing slow and lazy while Steve gets used to hovering over him, gets used to Dustin's legs around his hips, and the feeling of grinding down into him in a way he's never really done before.

Eventually, they do pull apart, and Steve presses his face into Dustin's neck, because it's safe, and it smells good, and he's feeling a little wobbly. "I haven't ever done this to someone before," he confesses, because he knows this is different than the fucking he's done in the past, knows how much it can hurt if it's done without care. "So you have to tell me if something is wrong, okay?"

Dustin runs a hand gently through his hair, presses a kiss into his temple, and says softly, "Don't worry sweetheart. It's gonna be just fine, and if you want to stop at all, we can." He cups a hand around Steve's jaw and gently pulls him up so they're looking at each other again. "I mean it," he says, compassionate and serious. "It doesn't matter how far we get, if you want to stop, it's okay." Steve nods, nuzzling into Dustin's hand for comfort, already feeling a little scared, even though he still wants it. Dustin smiles at him, sweet and encouraging. "Do you have lube here? I probably should've asked that first." Steve nods again, feels his face go hot, remembering how he'd bought it a few days ago, specifically for this. He leans over to pull it out of his bedside drawer, where it's laying right at the top, for easy access, and shows it to Dustin before dropping it on the other pillow for later. "Oh, that's good sweetheart. Did you buy that just for me? After last weekend?"

"Yeah," Steve says, and feels himself go even hotter, feels his dick twitch a little in his jeans.

Dustin pulls him down into another kiss, open and sloppy, and says right up against his mouth, "Thank you, daddy. You're so thoughtful. Always prepared."

It breaks Steve's brain a little bit, shorts everything out, and all he can do is drop his head back to Dustin's collar and moan, hands twisted tight in the sheets by Dustin's shoulders, because, holy shit, what the _fuck_? Dustin holds him while he tries to calm down, but it's kind of counter productive, because he's mumbling in Steve's ear, saying shit like, "Always buy me just what I want," and, "Your gonna fuck me up so good," and it's kind of too much, but at the same time, Steve would rather die than tell him to stop.

Luckily, after a minute or two, he decides to move along, opts instead to say, calm and neutral, "Would it help you if I opened myself up a little first?" as if he knows that Steve is a little scared, and a little stalled, unable to figure out what to do next when he's this distracted by everything Dustin is saying.

Steve's breath hitches, and comes back on a sobbing, broken sound, and he thinks even if he was the most confident person in the world, he would still want to watch Dustin open himself up, because _holy shit_. "Yes," he breathes out, hot and trembling against Dustin's neck. " _Please_."

"Okay," Dustin replies, amiable and light. "That's what we'll do then, and you can take over whenever you want." He nuzzles softly at Steve's hair. "I just want you inside of me however you can."

"Dusty," Steve says, low and hurt. "I don't know how to start."

Dustin pets him gently, one hand in his hair, the other running down his back. "That's okay, baby. I'm gonna help you. Do you want to take our clothes off first?"

Steve laughs a little at that, because yeah, they are both still totally clothed, and he's just been too fucking keyed up to notice. "Yeah," he says, breathy and amused. "That's probably a good place to start." He sits back, and realizes Dustin is looking at him all fond and amused, almost teasing, but too sweet to really cross the line. "I forgot we were wearing clothes," he admits, offering a wry smile, and Dustin laughs, and sits up with him.

"Babe, you're fucking adorable. Please." Then his hands are pulling at Steve's shirt where it's still mostly tucked in, pushing it up his chest, until Steve gets with the program and takes it the rest of the way off. Dustin follows suit with his own shirt, and then kisses Steve's chest, closed mouth and sweet, nuzzling softly at the spot for a minute before turning his attention to opening Steve's pants.

They manage it with a lot more grace than usual, neither of them getting tangled up or falling over, and Steve's honestly grateful, because he thinks he's a little bit too willing to fall for distractions right now, and he really does want to fucking do this. Once they're both naked, Dustin sprawls back out and drops his legs open to make room for Steve between them again. Steve can't quite breathe right, looking at him, all soft and pretty in the warm afternoon light, his dick resting hard and flushed against his belly. "Jesus, Dusty," he says, all soft awe and devotion.

Dustin smiles up at him, warm and shy, and says quietly, "I, um, cleaned up before you got here. I was kind of hoping we would do this."

Steve's stomach drops out in a rush, heat boiling up to take it's place and he hears himself make a broken, animal sort of sound thinking about Dustin, here in their house, getting ready for Steve to fuck him, just on the off chance that Steve would say yes. "Holy shit," is what he manages to actually say, and it comes out strangled.

Dustin grins and nudges him gently with a knee, then shivers and runs the whole length of his calf along Steve's hip before reaching over and snagging the lube off the pillow next to him. Steve watches, wide eyed and captivated as Dustin pops the cap and then grins up at him. "Is it okay?"

"Yeah," Steve rasps, unable to come up with anything intelligent to say.

Dustin keeps one leg pressed tight to Steve's side, a point of contact to anchor them both, and pulls his other leg up, holding his hips as wide as he can get them in this position. Steve realizes immediately that this is not the ideal position for Dustin to be doing this in, and is aware that he's staying on his back entirely for Steve's benefit, and it makes everything inside of him clench up, hot and needy and grateful all at once, and he can't stop himself blurting out a sharp, "I love you," while Dustin is pouring lube on his fingers.

Dustin looks up at him, amused and tender, and says, "I love you, too, Steve." And then he's opening himself up, slow and careful while Steve watches, his breath hitching on little sighs and high pitched moans, his pretty hole stretching around his fingers like that's what it's made for, and Steve really wants to touch him there, but also doesn't want to fuck him up, and isn't sure how to ask if it's okay. Dustin can apparently still read Steve without even trying, though, even when he's got three of his own fingers shoved up inside himself, because he reaches for Steve with his free hand, says in a breathless, shaky voice, "Do you want to touch, sweetheart?"

Steve hears himself whimper, and it feels sharp and painful in his chest, all the want tearing out of him along with it so all he can do is nod and look at Dustin, lost and desperate. Dustin pulls his fingers out with a quiet, happy moan, wraps his them, slick and warm around Steve's wrist and tugs just enough to get Steve to lean over him. "I'll show you," he says, holding Steve's hand in his and dribbling lube over his fingers, careful not to pour too much. Then he sets the lube aside and uses his free hand to pull Steve down into a kiss, slow and easy enough that Steve will still be able to focus, just a distraction to take the edge off. He guides Steve's fingers down his body, and presses them flat against his hole. Steve moans, raw and broken and Dustin's breath hitches, his hole fluttering a little against Steve's touch. "All three," Dustin says, right up against Steve's mouth. "Nice and slow. I'm loose enough for it. You won't hurt me."

Steve does as he's told, presses in as gently as he can, following the encouragement of Dustin's fingers on his knuckles, guiding his speed until they're as deep as he can go. He's sobbing a little into Dustin's mouth, because this is Dustin's body, warmer than he could've really imagined, and tight around his fingers, accepting him so easily, and he can't really fathom that his fingers are _inside_ him right now; can't believe the way Dustin is rocking his hips on Steve's hand, drawing off just enough that Steve can feel the drag of it and then pushing back down until his knuckles are pressed flush against the rim again. "Dusty," he sobs, mouth sloppy against Dustin's, and he thinks he's on the verge of tears. "I love you. I love you. Fuck, I love you." It's all he can get out, even though what he wants to do is wax poetic about Dustin letting him do this; to tell Dustin how much he loves his body, how beautiful and perfect it is, how earth shattering it is to be allowed inside of it.

Steve's whole world feels like it's coming to some sort of spectacular, devastating end, knowing that when he moves his wrist, and crooks his fingers, he's rubbing at Dustin's insides. When he finds what he's looking for, Dustin arches up into him, and shouts a quick, high pitched, "Oh fuck!" and Steve moans in reply, because that's all he wants, to give Dustin pleasure in return for what he's offering Steve. Dustin's fingers are tight around Steve's wrist now, holding him still as he rocks on Steve's fingers, kissing him clumsily, his other hand dropping down between them to wrap around Steve's dick, sliding up until he can twist his fingers around the head and press down into his slit in a way that rips a jagged whine out of him.

He pulls out of the kiss, panting, and says urgently, "Dusty, I'm not gonna last long enough to fuck you if you do that."

Dustin lets go of him with a disgruntled little noise, and sounds wrecked when he says, "I'm ready, babe. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says, and realizes it's really true. He's still nervous, but he feels good about it. "I'm good, Dusty. I'm fucking good. I want you so bad."

Dustin smiles, shaky and turned on, and lets go of Steve, using both hands to fumble with the lube for a second, and then reaching back between them and saying, "It's a little cold." He waits for Steve to acknowledge it, and then takes hold of his dick again, spreading the slick thoroughly over the whole length of him, until Steve has to cant his hips away, just to be safe.

He slides his fingers out of Dustin's ass as smoothly as he can, doesn't want to get impatient now, when he thinks Dustin is probably most vulnerable, and then gives Dustin time to readjust into a more comfortable position. When he's ready, Dustin cants his hips up again and his hand is soft on Steve's face when he says, "Okay, sweetheart. Just take it slow. Your dick is a lot bigger than your fingers."

Steve concentrates very hard on doing what he's told, presses in as gently as he can, feels his body shaking with the effort of controlling his muscles so tightly. Dustin has one hand on his hip, fingers pressing gently against the bone, and he's moaning, long and low, body loose under Steve, mouth open against his neck, offering slurred, rambling encouragement. "Fuck, baby, that's right. Jesus fucking christ. That's really good."

Steve stops about halfway, because he feels Dustin go tense, feels his fingers dig in a little harder at his hip, and Dustin lets out a stuttering, tight breath. "Just need a second to adjust," he says, breathless, and then adds with authority, "Kiss me."

So Steve does, pressing their mouths together and letting Dustin lick up into him, concentrating so hard on keeping still despite everything in him screaming for more friction, that he doesn't really have the presence of mind to do anything other than moan, desperate and deep into Dustin's mouth. He's so focused on making sure his hips don't move, that he has a moment of panic when he feels friction again, before he realizes that it's Dustin moving, pressing himself down onto Steve slow and persistent, panting into his mouth. Steve groans, and is shaking even harder now with the effort of staying still, until Dustin trails his mouth over Steve's cheek and says right in his ear, "God, you're so good, baby. So fucking sweet, staying so still like that." He nips gently at Steve's jaw, and then says, mischievous and dirty, "I think you should fuck me now."

It takes Steve a moment to process, and at first all he does is make a confused, wounded little noise, but then Dustin shifts again, pressing his heel very gently into Steve's ass, and saying all encouraging and sweet, "Go on, sweetheart." It's enough to bring Steve back to reality, and he rolls his hips, careful and slow, has to drop his face down into Dustin's neck because it feels so good, and he can't handle it without hiding a little. Dustin arches into and makes a soft, relieved kind of noise that makes Steve do it again, because Dustin _needs_ this, has probably needed it for a long time, and however lost Steve may feel, he wants nothing more than to give Dustin what he needs.

It takes him a little while to find a good rhythm, takes him a little bit longer after that to find the right angle, but Dustin doesn't seem to mind, just keeps making those sweet, happy little noises, murmuring quiet encouragement in Steve's ear until he can't talk anymore and it's just his hands scrabbling at Steve's shoulders, noises gone broken and needy as he arches up into the movement, setting a counter rhythm that's dizzying and amazing. Steve can hear himself whimpering, a steady flow of agonized, broken whines that he can't stop, because if he does, he might start crying instead, his throat gone tight, his eyes stinging and hot.

It's overwhelming, the feeling of Dustin's body taking him in, tight and warm and probably the best thing he's ever felt in his life; the feeling of Dustin's hands pressed hard into his back, nails digging in enough to sting in a way that makes the pleasure seem razor sharp and almost dangerous. He feels devastated and exposed, like if he looks, his chest might have been torn open, his bleeding heart laid bare, raw and vulnerable, left completely at Dustin's mercy. It sends a thrill through him, because he knows, if that's the case, that Dustin will hold it in his hands and keep it safe, protecting him in the cradle of his body until Steve can protect himself again.

His hips stutter a little, and he feels a wracking sob in his chest, has to press his face further into Dustin's neck and say, "I love you," into his skin.

Dustin's hands go soft again, and Dustin puts one on his cheek, covering the exposed part of his face, petting him soft and soothing. He slides his leg gently over Steve's side, pressing just hard enough to be felt, still arching up into the uneven movement of Steve's hips, but more slowly, the urgency of it muted. "I love you, too, sweetheart," He whispers, soft and broken, like maybe he's just as fucked up about all this as Steve. "You're so good, Steve."

It's slower after that, Dustin's hands gentle and firm on Steve's body, one at his neck, and other one curved over the swell of his ass, guiding him with little movements, taking him back from the ledge easy and warm. "Just breathe. Take it nice and slow," Dustin says, breathy and slurred. It's even better like this, because Steve can feel the solid, quick beat of Dustin's pulse against his lips, can feel the warmth radiating off his chest, the slick, hot slide of his dick pressed up against Steve's belly, all made more intense by the long drag of their movements, the sound of Dustin's deep, gratified moans. It sends a scorching, rolling heat through his belly, severe and incredible, building inexorably towards a fall that Steve desperately wants to take.

Dustin is getting tighter in small, barely noticeable increments, his body raising up against Steve, tense and beautiful as his breath starts coming faster, his fingers pressing achingly deep into Steve's skin. It's not until he gasps, harsh and loud, pulling almost too hard on Steve's hair that Steve realizes how close Dustin really is and thinks to reach between them to wrap his fingers around his neglected cock. Dustin moans, stuttering out Steve's name, and presses up into Steve's touch. Steve jacks him off at the same slow rhythm as their fucking, long, steady strokes, dragging his fingers hard and unforgiving through Dustin's slit at the same time he hits his prostate as Dustin babbles incoherent praise, and it's honestly taking every thing Steve has not to come just from the sound of his pretty, desperate voice and the feel of his body clenching up all over.

"Dusty," he says, low and choked, moving so he can look at Dustin's gorgeous, flushed face. "I don't think I can last much longer."

Dustin smiles at him, sudden and extraordinary, letting out a breathy half laugh. "That makes two of us." Then he puts his hand back on Steve's face, cupping his cheek and running his thumb tenderly over the arch of it. "Come whenever you need to, sweetheart. I want you to come inside of me."

Steve whimpers in response, nuzzling at Dustin's hand before dropping his head back down to rest on Dustin's shoulder, unable to handle having his face exposed right now. Dustin hugs him closer, breath hitching a little bit because it changes the angle inside of him, and then, a second later, he arches up hard again, arms going tight around Steve as he hisses a surprised, "Oh, fuck."

Dustin's orgasm rocks through Steve's body in a way that takes him totally off guard. He can feel him clenching up in quick, relentless spasms, can feel his dick twitching hard against his fingers, feels the hot splatter of his come, the desperate, tight embrace of his thighs pressing firm against Steve's ribs, his hands holding hard at Steve's back as he moans in sharp, stuttering bursts. Steve tries to take him through it gently, tries to remember to ease off stroking him, so he won't get oversensitive, tries not to ruin the slow rhythm of his hips while Dustin rides it out, and then Dustin is babbling in his ear, still coming in weak little spurts as he does it. "Fuck, Steve, fuck. Come on baby, I want you to come for me. You're so fucking good, I love you so fucking much. Holy shit. Please, I need it."

Steve keens, hard and high pitched, completely out of his control as his orgasm rolls through him, and it feels like his whole body is awash with a flow of searing, sanctifying gratification. Dustin holds him as he shudders, hands warm and soft on Steve's skin, his body warm and tight, a safe place for Steve to completely lose it. He feels protected, and cherished, like Dustin's body will shelter him, like Dustin's heart will cover his and keep it whole until all of his wounds are healed and his scars don't hurt anymore. He cries as he comes, held in Dustin's sweet embrace, and more than anything, it feels like deliverance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all! Feel free to hit me up on tumblr if you want. I'm turtlenovas over there, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I may add more stories to this series later, just little snippets and things that I still would love to see happen, but this is the complete story that I wanted to tell, so I've marked the series complete.


End file.
